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Young Folks 


History of London. 


BY 

WILLIAM H. RIDEING. 

' • , 


“ I am somewhat of an antiquity hunter, and am fond of exploring London 
in quest of the relics of old times.” — Washington Irving. 



FULL Y ILL USTRA TED. 


; ' I U 




Uf/, v 

' Of W ft c u 


BOSTON: 

PUBLISHED BY ESTES AND LAURIAT, 

301-305 Washington Street. 

1884. 


Copyright, 1884 > 

By Estes and Lauriat. 



University Press: 

John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 




PREFACE. 


There are many books about London, and I have used 
them so freely, that the preparation of this addition to thei” 
number has been to some extent a work of abridgment and 
selection rather than one of research or original expression. 
In writing about the London of Shakespeare, I have made 
excerpts from the gossipy little volume by Edwin Goadby; 
in referring to Sir Richard Whittington, I have depended on 
the recent concise and excellent life of that worthy by Mr. 
Walter Besant, — a biography which has transformed the 
great Lord Mayor from a shadow of tradition into a definite 
personage ; in endeavoring to picture the old ’Prentice boys, 
I have quoted from the “ Fortunes of Nigel,” believing that 
as far as the background is concerned, Scott’s story is more 
graphic than any other account of these demonstrative young 
citizens, and at the same time historically accurate ; in speak¬ 
ing of London as it was during the reigns of Charles the 
First and Charles the Second, I have dipped into Macaulay’s 
splendid History ; and in relation to the Plague, I have done 
little more than condense the picturesque Journal of Daniel 
Defoe. 

Portions of Mrs. Newton Crosland’s “ Stories of the City 
of London ” have been used in several chapters, and I have 



11 


Preface . 


supplemented a condensation of her account of the “ No- 
Popery ” Riots of Lord George Gordon with extracts from 
the brilliant narrative of those disturbances given by Dickens 
in “ Barnaby Rudge.” Among the works of reference 
which have been * invaluable to me throughout my task, 
I must mention the six volumes of “ Old and New Lon¬ 
don,” by Walter Thornbury and Edward Walford; “ Curi¬ 
osities of London,” by John Timbs ; “ Walks about London,” 
by Augustus Hare; the Dictionaries of London and of the 
Thames edited by the younger Dickens ; Pascoe’s “ London 
Directory for American Travellers,” and the comprehensive 
description of London edited by Charles Knight. Knight’s 
“ London,” and the similar work by Messrs. Thornbury 
and Walford, have been of greater service to me than any 
others. 

I have also made use of “ London, Past and Present,” 
a little book issued by Blackwood; the “ Story of the Lon¬ 
don Parks,” by Jacob Larwood; Pauli’s “ Pictures of Old 
England ; ” the “ Life and Times of Sir Thomas Gresham,” 
by John William Burgon ; “ Londoniana,” by Edward Wal¬ 
ford; “The City,” by William Gilbert; “Lombard Street,” 
by Walter Bagehot: “ Every-day Life in Our Public Schools,” 
by C. E. Pascoe ; the “ Short History of England ” and the 
“ Making of England,” by J. R. Green ; “ Banks and Bank¬ 
ers,” by Frederick Martin; Macaulay’s “ Miscellaneous 
Essays ; ” Herbert’s “ History of the City Companies ; ” 
Riley’s “ Memorials of London ; ” the “ History of London,” 
by Thomas Allen, and the “History and Survey of Lon¬ 
don,” by William Maitland. 

Having made these acknowledgments, I offer the little 
book to the reader for his kindly judgment, believing that 


Preface. 


m 


if he is a student sitting by his own fireside it will give him 
a clear and succinct view of the history of a City which has 
been called “ the heart, the centre of the living world; ” and 
that should it be his good fortune to visit the great me¬ 
tropolis, the volume will prove an interesting companion to 
him in his walks along the famous streets and historic 
by-ways. 


Boston, Mass. 


WILLIAM H. RIDEING. 


TABLE OF CONTENTS. 


CHAP. PAGE 

I. From the Earliest Time to the Reign of Henry 

the Third . n 

II. In the Reigns of Edward the Third and Rich¬ 
ard the Second. 29 

III. From 1450 to 1559.47 

IV. In Shakespeare’s Time.57 

V. The ’Prentice Boys of London.73 

VI. London under the Stuarts.81 

VII. The Plague.109 

VIII. The Great Fire.121 

IX. In the Reign of Queen Anne.131 

X. The Gordon Riots.141 

XI. Improved London.161 

XII. London Bridge.189 

XIII. A Trip on the River.199 

XIV. The Tower.217 

XV. The Lord Mayors of London.243 

XVI. Richard Whittington.265 

XVII. The Trade-Guilds of London.277 

XVIII. The Bank of England.317 

XIX. The Royal Exchange.337 

XX. Temple Bar and its Neighborhood .... 355 

XXI. St. Paul’s Cathedral and Westminster Abbey. 391 

XXII. The PIouses of Parliament.425 

XXIII. The London Parks.44^ 

XXIV. The British Museum.467 


























LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

Ben Jonson at the Devil Tavern . . . . Frontispiece 


The London Stone ..12 

Norman Barrow .. 14 

1 louses on Old London Bridge. 17 

Norman Travelling Dress .. 19 

Feet and Head Dresses.20 

Murder of Thomas a Becket.23 

Women in Norman Dress.26 

Knight.*.30 

The Tabard Inn. 31 

Early Plantagenets.34 

Later Plantagenets. 36 

Fall of Wat Tyler. 41 

Head Dresses of the Period.47 

York and Lancaster Ladies.4S 

A Marriage Procession.49 

Burning the Martyrs. 53 

Elizabeth. 59 

Shakespeare.61 

The Old Globe Theatre.63 

A Play in an Inn-yard.67 

The Globe Theatre.71 

Beginning of the Riots.75 

Guy Fawkes Discovered.83 

Guy Fawkes and Conspirators.87 

Charles the First.89 

Execution of Charles the First.91 

Burial of Charles the First.93 

Roasting the Rum]). 95 

Falconer to James the First.98 
































V1U 


List of Illustrations. 


PAGE 


A Lord Mayor. 

A Lady Mayoress. 

Solomon Eagle. 

The Great Fire in London. 

Queen Anne. 

Lady Mary Montague at the Kit-Kat Club 

Hoop. 

The Gordon Riots . 

Sandals. 

Beards . 

Costumes, Time of George III. 

George III... 

Petticoat Lane. 

India Office, from St. James’s Park . . . 

A Rainy Day in Old London. 

The Opening of the Underground Railway 

Attack on Queen Eleanor. 

Osborne’s Leap.. 

Pensioners at Greenwich. 

Lambeth Palace. — Lollards’ Prison . . 

Palm-House at Kew. 

Hampton Court. 

Tower of London. 

Norman Chapel in the Tower. 

Portrait of Raleigh. 

Old London Bridge. 

Menagerie in the Tower. 

The Armory . 

The Crown Jewels 

Lord Mayor’s River Procession. 

The Old Lord Mayor’s Barge . . . 

The Lord Mayor’s Coach. 

Gog and Magog. 

Richard Whittington. 

Old Charing Cross. 

Ancient Windsor Castle. 

Court of Aldermen, Guildhall .... 
Interior of Merchant Taylors’ Hall . . . 

Goldsmith Hall. 

Crypt in Guildhall. 


99 
103 
111 
123 
133 
137 
141 

x 43 

146 

148 

X 5 X 

x 55 

163 

167 

x 73 

179 

X 9 X 

x 95 

201 

205 

209 

213 

219 


223 
. . 227 

. . 231 

• • 233 

• • 237 

. . 245 

. . 249 

• • 251 

• • 257 

. . 267 

. . 270 

. . 278 

. . 281 

. . 2S5 

. . 291 

• • 293 









































List of Illustrations. 


ix 


Procession of Billmen and Archers. 

Guard Chamber, Lambeth Palace. 

Salisbury and Worcester House. 

Courtyard, Bank of England. 

Parlor, Bank of England. 

Thomas Sutton. 

First Royal Exchange. 

Thomas Gresham. 

The Royal Exchange. 

Temple Bar. 

Knight-Templar. 

St. John’s Gate. 

Dr. Johnson’s Pew .. 

Gateway, Lincoln’s Inn.. 

A Proclamation at Temple Bar. 

Group at Hardman’s . 

Old St. Paul’s. 

St. Paul’s, from the River. 

Chapel of Henry VII, Westminster Abbey . . 

Westminster Palace.. . . . 

The Coronation Chair. 

St. Paul’s Cathedral. 

The Houses of Parliament. W. E Gladstone 

Old Westminster Hall. 

Queen Caroline’s Drawing-Room. 

The Star Chamber ... . 

London Dandy, Middle of Seventeenth Century 

Kensington Palace. 

St. James’s Park. 

Playing Pall-Mall. 

Reading-Room, British Museum . .... 


PAGE 
. . 299 

. . 306 

310 

• * 319 

■ • 3 2 3 

• • 33 1 

• • 339 

• • 343 

• • 349 

• • 357 

• • 363 

• y 367 

• • 373 

• • 377 

. . 381 

• • 387 

• • 393 

. . 401 

• 405 

. 411 

, . 417 

• • 423 

. . 427 

■ • 43 1 

■ • 437 

. 440 

• 447 

• 455 

• 459 

■ • 463 

. 471 




































“ London, the buskined stage 
Of history, the archive of the past, — 

The heart, the centre of the living world! ” 

Robert Leighton. 


YOUNG FOLKS’ 


HISTORY OF LONDON. 


-*o«- 


CHAPTER I. ) 

FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES TO THE REIGN OF 

HENRY III. 

Desiring to glorify their city, some of the Roman writers 
ascribed its origin to the gods; and Geoffrey of Monmouth, 
a monkish historian, whose imagination appears to have been 
greater than his truthfulness, attributes the foundation of Lon¬ 
don to Brutus, a descendant of Hmeas of Troy : — 

“ Brutus, considering the state of the Kingdom, form’d a 
Design of building a City, and in order thereunto, carefully 
survey’d the Country to discover a Place proper for its Situa¬ 
tion. At last pitching upon a Spot of Ground on the Bank of 
the River Thames, very fit for his Purpose, he erected a City 
thereon, and dignified the same with the Appellation of New 
Troy, by which Name it was known for many Ages. But the 
same being at length corrupted, it was called Trinovant; and 
in Process of Time, when Lud, the Brother of Cassibellaun, 
obtain’d the Government, he incircled the same with a strong 
and stately Wall, adorn’d with an infinite Number of Towers 
of curious Workmanship, and changed the name thereof to 
Caer-lud or Lud’s-town; and commanding the Citizens to 
build Houses and Publick Structures of all Sorts, it soon 
equalled, if not excell’d, all Cities at Home and Abroad, to a 




12 


Young FolkHistory of London. 


very great Degree. But some time after, the new Appellation 
being corrupted, it was changed into Caer-London ; and when 
the Kingdom was afterwards conquered and brought into 
Subjection by Foreigners, they chang’d the Name thereof to 
Londres.” 

Geoffrey has been severely scolded by other chroniclers for 
publishing this fanciful story, and one of them angrily and 
comprehensively describes it as “ a great, coarse, thick, heavy, 
long, and most impudent Lye.” 

If London existed before the invasion of the Romans it 
probably was like most British towns, a rude stockaded settle¬ 
ment, unacquainted with any more imposing architecture 
than windowless, chimneyless, and doorless huts, shaped of 
reeds and branches after the manner of hur¬ 
dles. The inhabitants went naked or dressed 
in the hides of animals, and they tattooed 
and painted their arms and faces with vari¬ 
ous figures. 

The situation of the town was a vast mo¬ 
rass, or lagoon, in which were many islands 
that are now united in the wonderful chain 
of London suburbs. Out of the waters also 
rose dark masses of tangled forest, through 
which the boar, the deer, the wolf, and the 
wild ox wandered unmolested. 

But with the coming of the Romans the solitude passed 
away, and a few years afterwards London had become a 
flourishing port. Though York was the official capital, Lon¬ 
don was the actual centre, for it was the point from which 
the roads of the conquerors radiated over the island. It 
rapidly surpassed all other British towns in population and 
wealth, though the scarcity of stone and the abundance of 
clay in its neighborhood did not encourage the erection of 
fine buildings, and it was little more than a mass of brick 



THE LONDON 
STONE. 














764-801. 


Roman London. 


13 


houses and red-tiled roofs, pierced by a network of narrow 
alleys, and cleft by two wider roads from the bridge which 
at this early period spanned the marshy Thames. 

Roman London was the real beginning of the great city, 
and a part of it lies buried eighteen feet below the level of 
Cheapside. The Romans left deep footprints wherever they 
trod, and many of the existing streets follow the lines which 
they beat out. The river bank was the site of their palaces, 
and a stone imbedded in the walls of one of the churches 
marks the starting-point of the roads which they designed,. 
In a lane out of the Strand may still be seen a deep, cool bath 
in which they bathed after the chariot races at Finsbury. 
Fragments of the pavements trodden by Hadrian and Con¬ 
stantine are occasionally unearthed, and the ramparts which 
the legionaries guarded have not yet wholly crumbled to 
dust. 

The city was thrice burned down between the years 764 
and 801. It was plundered by the Danes, taken and re¬ 
paired by King Alfred, and afterwards it became the residence 
of King Canute, who will be remembered for his dramatic 
rebuke of the flattery of his courtiers. Its progress was 
rapid, and in Canute’s time it had already become famous 
for its magnificence, being then possessed of the seventh part 
of the wealth of the whole kingdom. Many privileges were 
conferred upon it: it became the seat of parliament, and the 
centre of all political, literary, and fashionable society. 

In the time of the Saxons it was not unlike a small German 
town, such as may be seen to-day, clasped by a sturdy wall, 
with corner turrets for archers, and loops whence the bow¬ 
men could drive their arrows. The buildings were fortresses, 
convents, and huts. If restored, the streets would resemble 
those of Moscow, says Mr. Walter Thornbury, where, behind 
citadel, palace, and church, you come upon rows of wooden 
sheds. On the river would be a few fishermen’s boats, and 


14 Young Folks History of London. 

lower down, perhaps, would be a hundred larger vessels 
bringing furs, wines, and other luxuries in exchange for the 
wool and other products of the island. 

The persons one would meet in the streets would be the 
chieftain, with a bearded retinue of spearmen ; the priest, with 
a train of acolytes ; and a boorish crowd of halt-savage churls, 

plodding along with 
rough carts, laden with 
timber from the Essex 
forests, or driving 
herds of swine from 
the glades of Epping. 
Should we climb upon 
the walls, and look 
beyond them in the 
direction from which 
these country folk have 
come, we should see 
wild woodland and 
pasture, a landscape 
similar to that which 
the emigrant of these 
times finds in the unsettled parts of our Western States and 
Territories; and if we should accost one of them we should 
probably find him a strong, hearty fellow, with a red face and 
yellow locks, fond of strong ale and quite ready for a brawl. 
His dress would be a simple tunic or frock such as is still 
worn in a few of the rural parts of England. 

The chieftains, however, had a great taste for finery. They 
wore gold collars and precious stones round the neck, and 
costly bracelets and rings. The fabrics used were silk, linen, 
and woollens, which were often bedecked with jewels. 

The shops of the primitive city were small and dark, and 
all the wares were exhibited on a shelf projecting from the 



NORMAN BARROW. 



































1066. Charter confirmed by William. 15 

front of the merchant’s dwelling'. The interior furniture was 
of the simplest kind, often consisting of nothing more than 
a few rude benches and tables and cooking utensils. 

Besides the chieftains, priests, and churls, we might also 
have met in the streets the seafaring men of the old Saxon 
brotherland, “ the pioneers of the mighty Hansa of the 
North, which was in days to come to knit together London 
and Novgorod in one bond of commerce, and to dictate laws 
and distribute crowns among the nations.” 

After the battle of Hastings London surrendered to the 
conqueror somewhat ingloriously, but it was rewarded for its 
submission by one of the many charters granted to it and 
jealously guarded by it, which preserved its liberties and 
privileges. The charter was written in the language of the 
citizens, “ a mighty Favour at that Time,” says Maitland, 
“ when the French Tongue began to prevail over all.” It 
covered a slip of parchment six inches long and one inch 
wide, and it read in English thus : — 

“ William the King friendly salutes William the Bishop, and 
Godfrey the Portreve, and all the Burgesses within London, 
both French and English. And I declare, that I grant you 
to be all Lawworthy, as you were in the Days of King Ed¬ 
ward ; and I grant that every Child shall be his Father’s 
Heir, after his Father’s Days; and I will not suffer any 
person to do you wrong. God keep you.” 

This charter, simple as it was, confirmed the citizens in 
their liberties, and relieved them from the tyrannical vassalage 
which was common elsewhere in the kingdom. 

Eighteen years after the Conquest William began the erec¬ 
tion of the Tower of London, and, though 'the uses to which 
it was put soon made it a menace to the champions of pop¬ 
ular liberty, it was designed to fortify the river approaches 
to the city. It was built on a site which had been a Ro¬ 
man stronghold more than a thousand years before the Nor- 





16 Young Folks History of London . 

man king, and the mistake has been made by some writers, 
even Shakespeare, of attributing it to Julius Caesar. 

King William summoned Gundulf, the weeping monk of 
Bee, in Normandy, who, though familiar as an architect, was 
chiefly known in his convent as a weeper. No monk at Bee 
could cry so often and so much as Gundulf. He could weep 
with those who wept, and he could weep with those who 
sported. His tears rolled forth from what seemed to be an 
unfailing source. 

William made him Bishop of Rochester, and put him to 
work on the famous Tower. So Gundulf wept and built, and 
Ralph Flambard, Bishop of Durham, found the money, little 
imagining that he was robbing the people to erect a prison 
for himself. 

Probably the earliest description of the Tower of London 
is that by Fitzstephen, who lived in the twelfth century : 
“ The city of London hath in the east a very great and most 
strong palatine tower, whose turrets and walls do rise from a 
deep foundation, the mortar thereof being tempered with the 
blood of beasts.” Perhaps Gundulf pounded up the old red 
tiles and bricks of the Romans to mix his mortar, and the 
people, only too ready to surround with new glamour the 
great threatening tower that was springing up in their midst, 
accounted for the color of the mortar in this way. 

Gundulf lived to the age of eighty, and saw the completion 
of his work. 

William Rufus then made additions to the building, and, 
as an old chronicle states, “ he pilled and shaved the people 
with tribute, to spend about the Tower of London and the 
Great Hall at Westminster.” 

XJpon the death of Rufus the citizens seized Ralph Flam¬ 
bard, the aforesaid Bishop of Durham ; and this man, who had 
taxed them for the building of the fortress, was imprisoned 
in one of his own dungeons. One fine day he sent for a 



OLD LONDON BRIDGE. 
































































































































































, 


































' 


•• •• , • 

v- 

j*. . 





». • 


* • 




- ... I*. 









• w . 



1 r 35- 


Westminster Hall. 


T 9 


number of kegs of wine, and gave a great feast to his jailers, 
who got helplessly drunk. In one of the kegs was concealed 
a rope, by which the burly bishop let himself down out of a 
window, and although the rope was too short, and he had an 
awkward drop to brave, Flambard, fat as he was, took no 
hurt, and made good his escape to France. 

Westminster Hall, still one of the most notable buildings in 
Fondon, was built also by the second of the Norman kings ; 
and when his brother, 

Henry I., succeeded him 
on the throne, the latter 
granted a charter, which 
seems to have been the 
first step toward making 
that city an independent 
corporation. 

When Henry I. died, 
the citizens were instru¬ 
mental in putting the 
usurper Stephen on the 
throne. Henry’s daugh¬ 
ter was the heiress, but 
no sooner had that king 
breathed his last than 
his nephew Stephen, insensible to all ties of gratitude, hast¬ 
ened over to England from France, and stopped not till he 
arrived at London. No noble had as yet ventured to join 
him, nor had any town espoused his cause ; but London 
poured out to meet him with an uproarious welcome. The 
voice of her citizens had long been accepted, says Mr. J. 
R. Green, as representative of the popular assent in the 
choice of a king, and they now claimed the right of elec¬ 
tion. Undismayed by the absence of the hereditary ad¬ 
visers of the crown, the “ aldermen and wise folk gathered 





NORMAN TRAVELLING DRESS. 



















20 


Young Folks History of London . 



together the folk-mote; and these, providing at their own 
will for the good of the realm, unanimously resolved to 
choose a king.” The deliberations ended in the selection 
of Stephen; the citizens swore to defend the king with money 
and blood, and Stephen swore to devote himself wholly to 

the promotion of the 
country’s welfare. 

The citizens kept their 
word, but the king broke 
his. The years of his 
reign were years of un¬ 
exampled misrule, and 
when it ended the active 
agent of the reform was 
Theobald, the Archbishop 
of Canterbury, to whom 
Henry IT., Stephen’s suc¬ 
cessor, owed his crown 
and England her deliver¬ 
ance. 

Theobald was greatly 
aided by Thomas a 
Becket, the son of the 
Portreeve of London. 
Thomas grew up amid 
the Norman barons and 
clerks who frequented 
his father’s house, and his 
character was at once 
genial and refined. He 
was tall, handsome, bright¬ 
eyed, ready of wit and speech, and his firmness of temper 
showed itself in his very sports : he once plunged into a mill- 
race to rescue his hawk, which had fallen into the water, and 



FEET AND HEAD DRESSES. 





1170 - . Courage of A Becket . 21 

was nearly crushed to death by the wheel. Losing his for¬ 
tune, he joined the clergy, and became Archbishop Theo¬ 
bald’s confidant in his plans for the rescue of England. 

The fate of Thomas a Becket is one of the saddest stories 
of English history. This young Londoner became the most 
intimate friend of Henry II.; he and the king were nearly 
of an age, and it was said of them that they had but one 
heart and one mind; they even romped in the streets, and 
were as two brothers. The king loaded his favorite with 
riches and honors, and made him chancellor of the realm. 
The king’s ambition was vaulting, however, and he was not 
above using his intimate friend as a tool. The latter per¬ 
ceived his aims, and frankly said to him, — 

“ You will soon hate me as much as you love me now, for 
you assume an authority in the affairs of the church to which 
I will never assent.” 

For some time the king succeeded in his purposes, which 
were intended to put the affairs of the church under his own 
control, and his former friend became bitterly opposed to 
him. Above all things Thomas a Becket was brave ; and 
when in one of the councils cries of “ Traitor ! traitor ! ” 
were raised against him, he turned fiercely upon his accusers, 
and said, “ Were I a knight, my sword should answer that 
foul taunt.” 

At last he was obliged to leave England, and for six years 
the conflict went on between him and the king, one repre¬ 
senting a claim for spiritual supremacy, and the other a claim 
for temporal supremacy, though both were actuated to a great 
extent by personal jealousy. A truce was then declared, 
and Thomas returned to' England. But he had been there 
only a short time when he was murdered in his own cathe¬ 
dral by four fanatic supporters of the king. 

It is one of the most dramatic pictures of history. The 
prelate is standing at the altar in the dimly lighted and silent 


22 Young Folks History of London. 

sanctuary, with his heavily robed monks and clergy around 
him, their shadows falling across the stone floor and lofty 
pillars of the cathedral. Suddenly the four loud-voiced, 
spurred, and armored knights burst through one of the doors, 
and cry out, “ Where is the traitor? ” The words are spoken 
again in echoes from the roof and every corner of the spa¬ 
cious building, “ Where is the traitor? ” 

Thomas turns on the steps of the altar, upon which a few 
lights are burning, showing the religious splendors behind 
them. “ Here am I,” he answers, in a voice in which there 
is no tremor, — “ here am I, no traitor, but a priest of God.” 
One of the knights rushes up to him and seizes him, mutter¬ 
ing, “ You are our prisoner ! ” 

“ Off! ” cries the bishop, recognizing him, “ You are my 
servant,” throwing him down. 

The three others come to the aid of their companion, 
while the monks in terror conceal themselves behind the 
pillars ; and in a minute Thomas a Becket is lying dead, while 
the assassins steal off, one of them exclaiming, “ Let us be 
off, he will never rise again ! ” 

Thus died one of the most famous sons of the city whose 
history we are writing, — the first Englishman under the Nor¬ 
man rule who rose to a great position. 

The end of the king was scarcely less sad. His sons re¬ 
volted against him, and before his death he humiliated him¬ 
self before the tomb of the murdered companion of his youth. 
As he passed away, he slowly murmured, “ Shame, shame on 
a conquered king.” 

His son Richard succeeded him, and on the death of 
the latter, Henry’s younger son, John, ascended the throne. 
During the reign of John, London had again an opportunity 
to exercise its growing power, the city being influential in 
procuring the Magna Charta at Runnymede, the island near 
Windsor, where the king and the barons met; and in the 



THE MURDER Of THOMAS A BECKET. 






































































1199-1272. 


Foreign Settlers. 


25 


war of the barons for constitutional liberties against King 
Henry III., it once more led the way in the championship 
of the popular cause, and provided Simon de Montfort, the 
Earl of Leicester, with fifteen thousand men to resist the army 
of that monarch. 

Until the reign of Edward I. the other towns of the king¬ 
dom had no liberties. They did not have any voicd in the 
government, and had not even the privilege of electing their 
own local officers. Justice was administered among the in¬ 
habitants by the steward of the lord owning the ground upon 
which the town was built. 

London had now become in some respects similar to New 
York and Boston of the present time. Foreigners were con¬ 
stantly flocking into it, and for the most part they were sub¬ 
stantial and industrious men, artisans from France, Holland, 
and Germany. Members of the great mercantile houses of 
Italy, and especially of Lombardy, also came to invest their 
fortunes in it, and they combined the business of bankers 
with that of advancing money at a high rate of interest. It 
is the coat-of-arms used by them which the pawnbrokers 
now display, — the three gold balls, Avhich symbolize the 
poverty and improvidence of our large cities. 

Great precautions were taken to protect the treasure which 
was stored in the city. The city gates were carefully closed 
when the first chime of the curfew rang out, and at the last 
stroke of the bell the wickets were shut. Each ward pro¬ 
vided a number of watchmen, and some twenty armed men 
mounted guard at each of the gates. During the day ser¬ 
geants “ fluent of speech ” were stationed there to examine 
all doubtful characters; and all boats in the river were made 
fast to the Middlesex shore. While two boats filled with 
river police were patrolling the Thames, watchmen were 
pacing the streets. All taverns were closed at the curfew, 
and after that hour any belated citizen was picked up without 


2 6 


Young Folks History of London. 


ceremony and summarily locked up till morning in the bride¬ 
well. On holidays, and when there was any prospect of 
unusual lawlessness, many of the citizens acted as special 
constables, wearing party-colored coats over their armor and 
carrying lances painted with different colors ; but as they 
were supplied at night with flaming cressets fixed in long 
poles, the disturbers of the peace had not much difficulty 
in evading them. 

The community was generally very comfortable. There 
were no paupers, and there was little poverty. The mar- 



WOMEN IN NORMAN DRESS. 


kets were much what they are now ; the fishmongers had 
already chosen Billingsgate for their location, and the game 
and poultry sellers, Leadenhall; but owing to the absence of 
conveyances the people had to live for half the year on salted 
meat and stock fish. 


There were no wagons, coaches, or canals; the traffic was 

all on the backs of horses. The drivers came to town, and 

returned, in strong companies, for there were robbers lurking 

£> 

























Struggles for Privileges. 


27 


I 3°7- 


ic 

of 

ial 

iid 

iey 

i 

ity 

j re 

ir- 


near every wood. They carried or bought their own provis¬ 
ions on the way, for at the inns they found nothing but sleep¬ 
ing accommodation. They carried their valuables to bed 
with them, and sometimes sat up, watching over them, all 
night. On the march they looked suspiciously, weapon in 
hand, at every coppice of trees or clump of tangled brush¬ 
wood. 

The Norman influence had led to the cultivation of the arts 
and refinements of life; and according to one historian, who 
may be questioned, the title of baron was given to all the 
burgesses of London. 

But though many privileges were conferred on the metrop¬ 
olis, it was not allowed to enjoy them without a struggle. The 
most dangerous and the most imperative duty of the mayor, 
sheriffs, and aldermen was to guard these privileges from the 
Crown and Court, and to watch for opportunities to strengthen 
and extend them. When the sovereign was in trouble and 
needed the alliance of a city which could furnish an army as 
great as half the barons of England could gather together, it 
was easy to obtain new charters and other favors from him ; 
but when he was secure on the throne, the citizens had to 
look to their coffers, and endure many affronts. What privi¬ 
leges they possessed they had to pay for handsomely ; and 
every possible occasion was seized on by the king to increase 
their taxes, which during the reign of Henry III. amounted 
to more than six and a half per cent. 


I 










“ He who has once felt that love of London can never again be ! 
happy beyond the sound of Bow Bells, which can now be heard for i 
twenty miles round and more. The greatness of the city, its history, 
its churchyards crowded with dead citizens, its associations, its ambi¬ 
tions, its pride, its hurrying crowds, — all these things affect the imag¬ 
ination and fill the heart. There is no place in all the world, and 
never has been, which so stirs the heart of her children with love and 
pride as the city of London ; not Paris even, nor Rome, nor Florence, 
nor Venice; there is no city in which the people have been more 
steadfastly purposed to maintain their rights and fight for their free¬ 
dom.”— Rice and Besant. 








CHAPTER II. 


IN THE REIGNS OF EDWARD III. AND RICHARD II. 

By the time of Edward III. the fusion of the Normans 
and the Saxons had become complete, and English had 
become a common tongue to high and low. The city, also, 
had changed its appearance to some extent, and we will 
now look at it as it was in the reigns of Edward and his suc¬ 
cessor, Richard II. 

We get an idea of the sort of people we should have met, 
had we lived then, from Chaucer’s description of the thirty 
pilgrims who started one May morning from the Tabard Inn, 
to visit the shrine of Thomas a Becket, where miracles were 
said to be wrought, and who represented every class of Eng¬ 
lish society, from the noble to the ploughman. 

A knight heads the list, most of whose life has been spent 
in the field, and whose dress shows that he seldom takes off 
his armor. He is accompanied by his son, a curly-headed 
young squire, who is elegantly and even foppishly dressed. 
This youth has already made a campaign against the French, 
and on that occasion, as well as in the tourney, has borne 
himself well in the hopes of gaining his lady’s favor. Love 
deprives him of sleep, and, like the nightingale, he is overflow¬ 
ing with songs to his beloved. In attendance on him and 
his father is a yeoman, who, clad in green, with sword and 
buckler, his bow in his hand, and his arrows and dagger in 
his belt, represents the stalwart class who won Crecy and 
Poitiers for the Plantagenets. 







30 Young Folks History of London. 

In contrast with them appears a lively prioress, who speaks 
with a French lisp after the manner of “ Stratford atte 
Bow;” and after her comes a portly monk of the Bene¬ 
dictine order, whose crown and cheeks are as smooth as glass, 
and whose eyes shine like burning coals. His bridle jingles 
as loud as chapel bells, for he is a lover of the hunt and 

knows well how to sit on his horse. 
Then there is a begging friar, and a mer¬ 
chant with forked beard, Flemish beaver, 
and well-clasped boots, who is familiar 
with all the ways of the Wall Street of 
his time. Learning is represented by an 
Oxford student, hollow-cheeked and 
threadbare, and by a successful lawyer, 
rich through heavy fees and fat per¬ 
quisites. 

Among the others is a franklin, the 
owner ol a freehold estate, who is a man 
of note in his county, having already 
served as knight of the shire and as 
sheriff; in whose house, as the poet says, 
“ it snows meat and drink; ” and of 
the humbler persons are several types of 
English industry, — a haberdasher, a car¬ 
penter, a weaver, a dyer, and a tapestry 
maker, each in the new livery of his craft 
which was adopted in King Edward’s 
time. Here, also, is the sailor, or the 
shipman, as he is called, sunburnt, and clad in the dress of his 
class, who has visited every shore from Gothland to Cape 
Finisterre, and next to him is a doctor of physic, who is 
familiar with astrology, dresses smartly, and, like the lawyer, 
has profited abundantly by the misfortunes of his fellows. A 
prominent figure is the wife of Bath, wearing clothing of the 



KNIGHT. 






























THE OLD TABARD INN. 

















































































































































































































































































































































































1377-1399* 


Canterbury Pilgrims. 


33 


finest stuffs, a broad hat, red stockings, and spurs ; and in con¬ 
trast to her, again, is a poor parson, who, notwithstanding his 
scanty income, is ever contented, and never fails to go forth, 
staff in hand, when the afflicted need him. “ Christ’s lore 
and his apostles’ twelve he taught, and first he followed it 
himself.” Then there is a miller, and also the steward of a 
religious house, who knows how to make his own profits 
while he is buying for his masters. The bailiff of a Norfolk 
lord is There, a man as lean as a rake, shaven and choleric. 
In his youth he was a carpenter, but no one knows better 
than he how to judge of the yielding of the seed, or the 
promise of cattle. The summoner of an archdeacon is one 
of the least reputable of the company. Lustful and glutton¬ 
ous, he cares most for his wine, and when intoxicated he 
speaks nothing but bad Latin, having picked up some scraps 
of that tongue in attendance on the courts. His rival in 
viciousness is a pardoner, who, licensed to sell papal indul¬ 
gences, carries in his wallet a number of pardons, “ come 
from Rome all hot.” 

These are the people who left the Tabard Inn, with its 
peaked gables, behind them on that May morning, and they 
are of the kind we should have met plentifully in the streets 
of London in the fourteenth century. 

The city at the close of that century (Messrs. Rice and 
Besant have written in their history of Sir Richard Whitting¬ 
ton) was much richer in great and noble houses than it is at 
present; but it had a straggling, semi-rural appearance. The 
brooks which channelled its surface were not embanked, 
much less vaulted over. Here and there a wharf or bridge 
was to be seen on the banks of the Thames, where the Han¬ 
seatic ships or Genoese galleys lay, but for the most part they 
were much as the washings of the river had shaped them, 
deformed rather than ornamented by human cutting and 
carving. The streets were crooked ; few of them were paved, 

3 






34 


Young Folks History of London. 


and refuse lay ankle-deep in them. Straggling groups of 
houses rose here and there, with gardens around and between 
them. Those of the nobility, the royal castles and towers, 
the precincts of the cathedral and the abbeys and monasteries, 
were walled and embattled. The city wall belted in the 
whole, but looking from it into the London of that time, the 
latter seemed more like several villages than one town. 


The city, however, already 
possessed St. Paul’s Cathe¬ 
dral, the Tower, and London 
Bridge. The Tower was an 
object of fear and jealousy 
rather than pride to the citi¬ 
zens, because it represented 
the royal pretensions against 
which they were continually 
struggling. It was a stand¬ 
ing menace, and it was asso¬ 
ciated with the death of 
those who had fallen in the 
battle of freedom. It was 
in that fortress that the early 



EARLY PLANTAGENETS. 


reformers were hanged, beheaded, and quartered, as sedi¬ 
tious and pestilent fellows. 

The following story shows the popular feeling against it: — 

Henry III. added to the main building a noble tower. 
Hardly were the works completed than, on the night of St. 
George, the foundations gave way, and the whole fell to the 
ground. The work was again taken in hand, and the tower 
rebuilt. Again it fell to the ground. Now there was a cer¬ 
tain priest in London, to whom, in a dream, there appeared 
the venerable figure of an archbishop bearing a cross in his 
hand. He advanced to the newly built walls, regarded them 
with a stern and threatening aspect, and struck them with his 


















1377-1399- 


The City Companies . 


35 


cross, whereupon they all fell to the ground. The sleeping 
priest, in his dream, asked an attendant on the archbishop 
what might be the meaning of this, and was answered that 
he saw before him the sainted Thomas a Becket, son of 
Gilbert, Portreeve of London, who overturned these walls 
because he knew them to be designed for the injury and 
prejudice of the Londoners, whom he loved, and not for 
-defence of the kingdom. 

London in the fourteenth century was almost as catholic 
in its commercial pursuits as it is now, and it had some trades 
which are now obsolete or merged into others, such as that 
of the paternoster, or maker of prayer-beads; the saucer , or 
dealer in salt; the imageur , or maker of images for church 
purposes ; and the disshere , or maker of dishes. 

The tradesmen banded themselves in societies for their 
protection and advancement in early times; but the forma¬ 
tion of the city guilds or companies, as they now exist, was 
greatly helped in the reign of Edward III. It was a long 
time before they obtained what they have ever since held, a 
monopoly of the municipal offices and dignities; but they 
alone were privileged to carry on business within the city 
walls, and persons who had not served a full term of appren¬ 
ticeship, and were not members of a guild, could not open 
shops. 

Edward III. seems to have been the first king who realized 
the enormous importance of encouraging and fostering the 
trade of the city through its companies, and the necessity of 
furthering their development. Successful trade brought wealth 
to the country ; wealth brought love of order and royal taxes ; 
and love of order brought loyalty. Edward set the example — 
followed often since his day — of becoming a member of one 
of the companies, the Merchant Taylors, formerly called the 
Linen Armourers. Richard II., after his grandfather’s ex¬ 
ample, became a member of the Mercers’ Company. Princes 







36 Young Folks History of London. 

and nobles followed the royal lead, and accepted member¬ 
ship of the great companies much as they do now. 

The general management of all the companies was very 
much the same. The differences, indeed, were those of 
different patron saints, different liveries, and different incomes. 
The first rule was that no base-born person or churl should 
be admitted to apprenticeship, and that no person should 
disclose the lawful secrets of the craft. 

The wardens had great 
powers, which they ap¬ 
pear to have exercised 
zealously. They could 
visit everything and in¬ 
spect everything. They 
were authorized to in¬ 
quire into the quality of 
all things sold; and be¬ 
cause their duties, if car¬ 
ried out honestly, were 
apt to engender bad feel¬ 
ings among those of the 
craft who would cheat if 
they could, it was en¬ 
joined that every mem¬ 
ber of the company, if elected to the office of warden, should 
be bound to serve ; and, further, that any member of the 
company not obeying the warden was liable to imprison¬ 
ment. 

Thus when, in the year 1431, the Company of Brewers 
resolved that every man among them should send a barrel of 
ale for the solace of the king’s army in France, and one Will 
Payne absolutely refused to contribute, it was decided that he 
should be fined the > sum of three shillings and fourpence, 
which should be expended in the purchase of a swan for the 



LATER PLANTAGENETS. 






















Festivals of the Tradesmen . 


I 377 _I 399- 


3 7 


Master’s breakfast. Payne objected to this simple and good- 
humored fine, and was forthwith taken to prison. 

Strange to relate, he remained obdurate, renounced the 
livery of his company, and defied the authorities. He was 
therefore brought before the mayor, and after some time he 
was made to see that, unless he obeyed, imprisonment in a 
close and disagreeable jail, from which fever was seldom ab¬ 
sent, would inevitably follow; and further, that if, by some 
lucky chance and the special blessing of Heaven, he should 
survive Newgate, he would receive sentence of expulsion from 
the city, and consequent starvation would be his lot. He 
then submitted. 

Another duty of the wardens was to assist the poorer 
brethren, the decayed and infirm, and the widows and or¬ 
phans of the livery. If a woman was married to a freeman 
of the company, she became henceforth their daughter, and 
they could not suffer her or her children to want. 

The wardens also had to see that, by covetousness and 
overreaching, no member of their craft was injured by a 
brother of the same fraternity. 

The great day of the year was the company’s saint’s day, 
when all the members of the livery, great and small, — from 
master and wardens to serving-men, every one in a new 
livery, — kept high holiday. First they marched from their 
hall to church in procession, headed by clerks, priests, and 
boys, all in surplices, singing as they went; then came the 
sheriff’s servants, the clerks, the assistants, the chaplain, 
the mayor’s sergeants, often the mayor himself, and, lastly, 
the court, with prince or master, wardens, and officers. 

After mass they returned in like order to their hall, where 
dinner was laid for them ; the music was playing in the 
gallery; the banners were displayed on the walls; and the 
air was heavy with the scent of sandalwood. Every sense 
was gratified at once. On the Hautpas, at the end of the 








38 Young Folks History of London , 

hall, was the high table, where the Prime Warden, Master, or 
“ Pilgrim ” entertained the court and the noble guests of the 
day; below sat the freemen, each accompanied by his wife, 
so that all alike might rejoice. 

Dinner being over, the music in the gallery ceased for a 
while, and serious business was transacted, — nothing less 
than the election of officers for the ensuing year. The lov¬ 
ing-cup then went round to refresh and cheer. History 
says nothing about 'how often the cup was filled, and how 
many times it passed round the hall; there are, however,, 
two texts in the kitchen of the Fishmongers’ Hall which have 
regulated every city banquet from time immemorial. They 
are golden texts. One enjoins the cooks to “ waste not;” 
the other adds, — lest these words should lead to parsimony, 
— “ spare not.” 

With hearts uplifted, cheerful faces, and eyes aglow with 
pride in their own splendor, the honest craftsmen sat, every 
man with his wife or maiden beside him, while the minstrels 
led in the players, and interludes, allegories, and mummeries 
finished the great day of the year. 

The following bill of fare of a fourteenth century banquet 
will be read with interest. The mixture of sweets and meat 
in each course is contrary to modern ideas, and it will be seen 
that there is only one vegetable spoken of: — 

First Coiirse. — Brawn, with mustard ; cabbages in pottage ; 
swan standard ; cony, roasted ; great custards. 

Second Course. — Venison, in broth, with white mottrews ; 
cony standard ; partridges, with cocks, roasted ; leche lombard ; 
doucettes, with little parneux. 

Third Course. — Pears in syrop ; great birds with little ones 
together ; fritters; payn puff, with a cold bake-meat. 

The leche lombard is said by one authority to have been a 
jelly of cream, isinglass, sugar, almonds, and other ingredients. 









1 377-1399* 


Rebellion of Wat Tyler. 


39 


Another authority states that it was made of pork pounded in 
a mortar with eggs, raisins, dates, sugar, salt, pepper, spices, 
milk of almonds, and red wine, all stuffed into a bladder and 
boiled. 

ATottrews was a stew of pork and poultry pounded in a 
mortar and strained; afterwards it was “ treated ” with 
blanched almonds, milk, and the white flour of rice. 

Doucettes were little sweetmeats and confections. Parneux 
were rich preparations of bread, &c. Pay?i puffs were made 
ol bread, stuffed with all kinds of farces, — for example, mar¬ 
row, yolk of eggs, dates, raisins, &c. 

The citizens ate food long since discarded as coarse, such 
as lampreys and porpoise ; they were fond of swans and pea¬ 
cocks ; they used melted fat, or lard, for butter; for sugar 
they had honey ; and they were especially addicted to eating 
frumenty, or wheat boiled in milk. 

For the above interesting facts we are indebted to Messrs. 
Rice and Besant. 

During the reign of the boy-king, Richard II., the insur¬ 
rection of Wat Tyler occurred. A new tax had been im¬ 
posed upon the people of the country, and in attempting to 
collect it at a village in Kent, one of the gatherers grossly 
insulted the young daughter of a poor laboring man. The 
outraged father at once struck the fellow across the head with 
his staff, killing him instantly, and then mustering his neigh¬ 
bors around him, who were in a temper to revolt against the 
increased taxation, he marched from village to village toward 
London, gathering recruits until he reached Blackheath, where 
he had one hundred thousand men under him. 

He fancifully called himself Wat Tyler, after his occupation, 
which was that of a roofer, and his lieutenants also assumed 
names which indicated their trades, such as Jack Straw, Hob 
Carter, and Tom Miller. 





40 Young Folks History of London . 

At Blackheath they were addressed by John Ball, an itin¬ 
erant preacher, who took for his text the lines, — 

“ When Adam delved, and Eve span, 

Where was then the gentleman ? ” 

and thence they advanced on the city, which was only a few 
miles distant. 

In their object, to resist an extortipn, we can sympathize 
. with them, but their leaders were foolish and unintelligent 
men, who made war not in the cause of justice alone, but 
against all culture and refinement. They declared them¬ 
selves in arms against all men of law, — barristers, justices, 
and jurors; and, as an old chronicler tells us, they spared 
none whom they thought to be learned. If a man was found 
to have pen and ink in his possession, he was at once 
beheaded. 

The most mischievous of the leaders seems to have been 
Ball, who himself possessed the education which he pretended 
to despise in others. He counselled the poor dupes to burn 
all historic records and monuments, so that “ the memories 
of antiquities being taken away, their lordes should not be 
able to challenge any right on them from that time forth ; ” 
and he also urged them to destroy all the nobility and clergy, 
“ so that there should bee no bishop in England, but one 
archbishoppe, which should bee himselfe.” 

The cause of the people crying out against the extrava¬ 
gance of the government was a just one, but they allowed 
themselves to mistake the scheming demagogue’s false cause 
for their own, and all he sought was his personal advance¬ 
ment. 

Forcing an entrance into the city, they burned many of the 
finest houses, sacked the public and religious buildings, broke 
open the jails, and enlisted the released prisoners in their 
unreasonable work of destruction. 






THE DEATH OF WAT TYLER 




























































































' 













1377 - 1399 - 


Murder of the Archbishop. 


43 


They then surrounded the Tower, in which the king, a 
boy of sixteen, had taken refuge, and they demanded him to 
come among them unarmed and without guards. The reti¬ 
nue of the youthful monarch were paralyzed with fear, and 
though the Tower was full of men expert in the use of arms, 
including six hundred archers, they “ did quaile in stomacke,” 
and allowed the rustics to enter their fortress without resist¬ 
ance, to roll about in the king’s chamber, and even to insult 
his mother. 

The rebels were under the influence of the wine and beer 
which they had drunk in their mad expedition ; one moment 
they were blindly ferocious, and the next in a state of maudlin 
joviality. In the former mood they seized the archbishop in 
his chapel, and led him forth to a place of execution. 

“ What is it you intend to do, dear brethren?” the prelate 
calmly said, when a score of swords were threatening him. 
“ What is the offence for which you will kill me? ” 

The savage cries of the mob were the only answer, and 
kneeling down, after forgiving the one chosen to be his ex¬ 
ecutioner, the prelate bared his neck. After the first blow 
he murmured, — 

“ It is the hand of God ! ” and eight strokes were de¬ 
livered before his head fell from his body. 

The mob also vented their fury upon all foreigners, and 
unless the latter could say “ bread and cheese ” without any 
strange accent they were beheaded. 

The king was overcome with fear when he met the rioters 
in Whitechapel, and he agreed to all their demands, one of 
which was that all felons should be pardoned. But gaining 
courage a day or two later he summoned them to meet him 
again. Among his attendants was Sir John Newton, and, as 
they approached, Wat Tyler demanded that the knight should 
dismount. The latter refused to do this, and Wat threatened 









44 Young Folks History of London. 

to strike him with his sword. The king then ordered Sir 
John to deliver his dagger to the rebel, and in reluctantly 
doing so the knight bitterly exclaimed, — 

“ You are not worthy to have it; nor would you dare to 
ask it of me, if you and I were here alone.” 

Wat was infuriated and attempted to cut him down, but 
before he could succeed, the mayor, William Walworth, ap¬ 
peared on the scene with several of the king’s supporters, 
and struck the presumptuous rebel with his sword, bringing 
him to the ground, where Sir John Cavendish despatched 
him. The mob at once made an advance to avenge their 
leader’s death, but with great presence of mind the boy-king 
stepped forward and cried, — 

“What work is this, my men? Will you shoot at your 
king? Be not sorry for the death of a traitor. I will be 
your king, your captain, and your leader.” 

He succeeded in leading them out of the city into the 
fields, and forbidding an army of loyal men, who had secretly 
assembled, to attack them, he dismissed them with the char¬ 
ters that they had extorted from him. 

Later the charters were revoked, and the people were 
reduced to the slavish condition against which they had 
revolted. 

William Walworth became one of the most illustrious of 
lord mayors. Though but a fishmonger, — an excellent busi¬ 
ness in a nation of Catholics, — he was noted for his ability. 
He was knighted, and one of the most important of London’s 
suburbs bears his name. 

The present Fishmonger’s Hall, at the northwest foot of 
London Bridge, contains many memorials of him. At the 
head of the stairs leading from the entrance-hall there is a 
statue of him, and formerly the right hand clasped a dagger, 
which was said to be the identical weapon with which he 


I 377-U99- 


WalwortJis Pall. 


45 


despatched Wat Tyler. This has been proved to be erro¬ 
neous ; but what is now reputed to be the genuine dagger is 
preserved by the Fishmonger’s Company. 

Another relic of him is “ Walworth’s pall,” also preserved 
by the Company, which is one of the most superb works of its 
kind in the world. 







“ On London stones I sometimes sigh 
For wider green and bluer sky; 

Too oft the trembling note is drowned 
In this huge city’s varied sound. 

‘ Pure song is country born,’ I cry. 

“ Then comes the spring, — the months go by, 
The last stray swallows seaward fly ; 

And I — I too ! —no more am found 
On London stones ! 

“ In vain ! — the woods, the fields, deny 
That clearer strain 1 fain would try ; 

Mine is an urban Muse, and bound 
By some strange law to paven ground. 
Abroad she pouts; she is not shy 
On London stones ! ” 


Austin Dobson. 


CHAPTER III. 

FROM 1450 TO 1559. 

In 1450 occurred the rebel¬ 
lion headed by Jack Cade, an 
Irish soldier, who with twenty 
thousand men behind him 
assembled at Blackheath, as 
Wat Tyler had done before, 
to protest against certain laws 
which oppressed the agricul¬ 
tural and laboring classes. 

Cade passed over London 
Bridge, and slashed in two 
the ropes that suspended the 
draw, crying out, as Shake¬ 
speare has it, “ Kill and knock 
down, and throw the enemy 
into the Thames ! ” Three 
head-dresses of the period. days afterwards the citizens, 

irritated at his robberies, 
barred the bridge at night, and penned him in at Southwark. 
The rebels then flew to arms and tried to force a passage, 
eventually winning the draw, and burning many of the houses 
which stood in close rows near it. Many persons were 
caught between the flames, and leaped into the river or threw 
themselves on the enemy’s weapons; while those doubting 
how to save themselves between fire, water, and sword were 

























48 Young Folks History of London. 

suffocated in the houses. The guns of the Tower were turned 
upon the rebels, who were at last routed, and Cade’s head 
was spiked on the bridge. 

Cade’s insurrection was one of the many disturbances 
which preceded the struggle between the houses of Lan¬ 
caster and York, throughout which London was steadily in 
favor of the latter; and when the young son of the Duke of 
York cut his way through the opposing army of Lancastrians 
at Mortimer’s Cross and marched on the metropolis, the citi¬ 
zens rallied at his call, and cried, “ Long live King Edward ! ” 

as he rode through the 
streets. 

During these troublous 
times there came to Lon¬ 
don a man who, though he 
bore no sword, played a 
greater part in the history 
of his country than the 
most valorous partisans of 
Lancaster or York. He 
was a Kentish boy by birth, 
and had been apprenticed 
in his youth to a London 

vokk and Lancaster ladies. mercer. Leaving the city 

with some merchant ad¬ 
venturers, he had spent thirty years in Flanders, and when he 
returned he brought with him the first printing press ever used 
in England. He set himself up in business at Westminster, 
under the sign of the red pole, and there he was visited by 
the rich and learned persons of the city. “ If it please any 
man, spiritual or temporal,” he advertised, “ to buy my books, 
all emprynted after the form of the present letter, which be 
well and truly correct, let him come to the Red Pole at 
Westminster, and he shall have them good chepe.” 

















































































1497- 


Pageantry in Cheap side. 


51 


Twenty-one years later, when Henry VII. was on the 
throne, Blackheath was again the scene of an insurrection, 
and again the people were in arms to resist the exactions of 
a selfish king. It was not the folk of Kent or Essex now, 
however, but the brawny Cornishmen, who had marched all 
the way from their sea-girt county to assert their unwillingness 
to submit to the imposition. Numbering' six thousand and 
headed by Lord Audley, they were met on Blackheath by the 
forces under the king, and were defeated, with heavy losses. 
Two thousand of them were slain, and the rest surrendered. 
Lord Audley was beheaded at Tower Hill. Several of his 
lieutenants were hanged at Tyburn, and others were im¬ 
prisoned. 

London was famous for the pageants with which it cele¬ 
brated victories, coronations, and nearly all holidays; and 
when the queen of this king went from the Tower to West¬ 
minster to be crowned, the citizens of Cheapside hung vel¬ 
vets and cloth of gold from their windows, and stationed 
children, dressed as angels, to sing praises as her Majesty 
passed by. When at a later period her corpse was conveyed 
from the Tower, where she died, thirty-seven maidens were 
stationed in Cheapside (the number corresponding with her 
age), all dressed in white and bearing lighted tapers. 

Cheapside was always the very centre of the pageant. 
“There,” says Mr. Thornbury, a velvets and silks trailed; 
there jewels shone ; there spear-heads and axe-heads glittered ; 
there breast-plates and steel caps gleamed; there proud 
horses fretted ; there bells clashed ; there the mob clamored ; 
there proud, warlike, and beautiful faces showed uncapped 
and unveiled to the seething, jostling people; and there 
mayor and aldermen grew hottest, bowed most, and puffed 
out with fullest dignity.” 

As Anne Boleyn proceeded from the Tower to Westmin 1 
ster on the eve of her coronation, the conduit of Cheapside, 





52 


Young Folks History of London. 


used for bringing water from springs in the country, ran full 
of wine. At Cheapside Cross stood all the aldermen, from 
amongst whom advanced Master Walter, the city recorder, 
who presented the queen with a purse containing a thousand 
gold pieces, which she thankfully accepted. At another place 
in the Chepe, as the street was then called, were figures rep¬ 
resenting Pallas, Venus, and Jupiter, who gave the queen an 
apple of gold, divided into three compartments, signifying 
wisdom, riches, and felicity. 

Only three years afterwards this unfortunate lady in whose 
honor all this pageantry was, died under the executioner’s 
axe in the Tower. “ The executioner,” she sadly said, “ is, I 
hear, very expert, and my neck is very slender ; ” upon which 
she clasped it with her hands and smiled. 

About twenty years later, when Queen Mary was on the 
throne, London was the scene of the martyrdom of those 
Protestants who refused to renounce their faith. England 
had been separated from the Church of Rome by Henry 
VIII., but Queen Mary was an ardent Catholic, and perse¬ 
cuted to death those who could not believe as she did. 
Some two hundred and seventy-seven persons were burnt at 
the stake in London and elsewhere. But they perished so 
courageously that, instead of terrifying, their example inspired 
others to be true in the face of every danger. When Bishop 
Ridley, of London, and Bishop Latimer, of W orcester, were 
burning together at Oxford, the latter exclaimed to his com¬ 
panion : “ Be of good cheer; we shall this day kindle such 
a torch in England as shall never be extinguished ! ” Each 
person burnt made a thousand converts to Protestantism, and 
instead of destroying, the cruel flames only glorified. 

Most of the burnings took place at Smithfield, where Sir 
William Walworth killed Wat Tyler; and some of them are 
beautifully'described in the “Book of Martyrs,” by John 
Eoxe, a writer of the time. Many of the martyrs showed no 






burning the martyrs. 





































































































































































































































The Smithfield Martyrs . 


55 


1558. 

sign of suffering at all, but passed away as if in a pleasant 
dream. Some of them embraced the stake to which they 
were bound, and kissed tfye fagots that were to burn them. 

“ Think you that you can bear the fire? ” said Bonner, the 
bishop who had charge of the executions, to a boy who had 
been condemned. I he boy made no answer, but at once 
held his hand, without flinching, in the flame of a candle 
which stood by. 

\\ hile the flames licked their bodies the martyrs smiled, 
and thus was the sting of death removed by faith in God. 

koxe speaks thus of John Rogers: “In the presence of 
Master Rochester, Comptroller of the queen’s household, Sir 
Richard Southwell, both sheriffs, and a wonderful number of 
people, the fire was put unto him ; and when it had taken hold 
both upon his legs and shoulders, he, as one feeling no smart, 
washed his hands in the flame as though it had been in cold 
water. And, after lifting up his hands unto heaven, not 
removing the same until such time as the devouring fire had 
consumed them, most mildly this happy martyr yielded up 
his spirit into the hands of his heavenly Father. A little 
before his burning at the stake his pardon was brought if he 
would have recanted, but he utterly refused. He was the 
first martyr of all the blessed company that suffered in Queen 
Mary’s time.” 

The death of that cruel queen averted a general revolt of 
the people, and with the accession of Elizabeth came a hap¬ 
pier period. As she entered London she kissed the English 
Bible which the citizens presented to her, and promised to 
read diligently therein. The first work of her Parliament 
was to undo the work of Mary. The statutes of heresies 
were repealed, the monasteries were disestablished, and the 
royal supremacy was restored. 







“The London of the period was not so gay as Paris, 1101 so bus- 
tling and prosperous as Antwerp, nor so full of splendor and intellec¬ 
tual life as Venice. Yet to the Englishman of the day it was an 
everlasting wonder. Its towers and palaces, its episcopal residences 
and gentlemen’s inns, the beauty of the Thames, the bustle of its com¬ 
merce, and number of its foreigners, the wealth of its Companies, and 
the bravery of its pageants, invested it with more poetry than can be 
claimed for it at the present time, unless Wealth be our deity, Hurry 
our companion, and Progress our muse. The rich were leaving their 
pleasant country mansions to plunge into its delights. At the law 
terms there was a regular influx of visitors, who seemed to think more 
of taking tobacco than of winning a lawsuit. Ambitious courtiers, 
hopeful ecclesiastics, pushing merchants, and poetic dreamers were 
all caught by the fascinations of London.” — Edwin Goadby. 


CHAPTER IV. 


I NTS HAKES PE A RE’S TIM E. 

Our next glance shall be at the city as it was in the reign 
of Queen Elizabeth. The vacant spaces which we 'have 
spoken of as giving the city the appearance of a cluster of 
neighboring villages rather than the unity of a town, were 
filled up with buildings. Westminster, instead of being an 
outlying suburb, was knitted to the city by the mansions of 
the nobility, which then sloped downward from what is now 
called the Strand to the river. The area within the walls 
had become too small for the populace, and outside of them 
there were busy streets and continuous lines of houses and 
shops. 

London had already begun to be foggy. On entering the 
streets (according to the “ Comprehensive History of Eng¬ 
land ”) the visitor from the country found himself all at once 
in a murky atmosphere, which was caused not only by the 
cloudiness overhead, but by the architecture of the houses, 
the successive stories of which projected one above another 
until the top ones almost met and roofed in the street below. 
In the old town of Chester such houses may still be seen 
f as were common in London during the reign of Queen 
Elizabeth. 

They were miserably built of timber and plaster, and were 
contemptuously called by foreigners walls of sticks and dirt ; 
but in contrast with their external appearance was the luxury 
that was to be found within, especially in those which be- 









58 


Young Folks History of London . 


longed to the merchants. The latter were now almost as 
rich as the nobles, and made as much display as these lords 
of the land. They wore the richest dresses; their houses 
were full of costly furniture; plate was piled upon their side¬ 
boards ; arras and silk hung from the walls, and fabrics from 
the Orient covered their chairs and tables. While the mer¬ 
chant himself was at his office, his wife and daughters idled 
at home, sitting at their windows or in their doorways, 
dressed in a style which vied with that of the court ladies; 
and when the head of the household took them out in the 
evenings, he had with him a retinue of his apprentices, 
each provided with a lantern or candle to light the way, 
and a club for protection from insolent gallants and brawl- 
,ing knaves. 


The reign of Elizabeth was notable in London as it was in 


the rest of the kingdom. The commerce of the city and the 
dignity of the merchants increased. Choicer foods were 
used by the people than formerly, and many refinements were 
introduced. The chimney corner came into existence, chim¬ 
neys having been a rare feature in ordinary houses previously, 
and pillows were adopted for beds and couches. But what 
distinguished the reign most was its literature : the London | 
of Elizabeth was the London of Spenser, Ben Jonson, and 
Shakespeare. 

The two latter often met and crossed the rapiers of their J 
it. “ Many were the wit-combats betwixt him and Ben 
Dnson,” says an old writer, “ which two I behold like a 


v 


great Spanish galleon and an E?iglish man-of-war: Master 
Jonson (like the former) was built far higher in learning; 
solid but slow in his performances. Shakespeare, with the 
English man-of-war, lesser in bulk , but lighter in sailing , 
could turn with all tides, tack about and take advantage of 
all winds, by the quickness of his wit and invention.” 

We have many pictures of Ben Jonson. In his youth he {§ 






ELIZABETH 











































































Vo 



















> 







































































































1558-1603 


Ben Jonson. 

had been a bricklayer, and while he helped in the building 
oi Lincoln’s Inn, with a trowel in his hand, he had a book 
Ill his pocket. Despite the vicissitudes of his life, he was 


SHAKESPEARE. 



for a quaitei of a century the favorite poet of the Court _ 

one that wrote masques not only for two kings to witness, 
but for one to perform in; the founder and chief orna- 














62 Young Folks History of London . 

ment of clubs, where the greatest wits, scholars, and nobles 
gathered round him. Above all, he was a rigid moralist, 
fearless in his denunciation of public and private profligacy, 
who crouched not to power or riches, but who stood up, 
throughout his life, a lover of justice and a defender of 
honor. 

Following the steps of Mr. Edwin Goadby, let us saunter 
through the city as it was while Shakespeare lived. At the 
beginning of our walk we meet a gentleman of the period. 
His doublet is of brilliant color and fine material, peaked, 
puffed, and slashed; he wears a velvet cloak trimmed with 
lace, and fastened with golden clasps; a rapier hangs by his 
side, the hilt gilded and jewelled ; and his shoes are decorated 
with rosettes and silver buckles. He is a dandified figure, 
with his flowers, scents, and trinkets, and his manner is ab¬ 
surdly affected. But his dress denotes his class as prescribed 
by law, and persons of other ranks are also required to dress 
in a certain fashion by the same statute. 

The materials of the ’prentices’ are coarse, and their only 
weapon is the knife ; the older citizens are permitted to wear 
gayer doublets, a short sword, and cloaks of dark colored 
cloths; the yeoman appears in homespun russet in the sum¬ 
mer and in frieze in winter; while the country gentleman’s 
attire is a brown or blue cloak, a plain doublet, and a feather¬ 
less hat. The wearing of black is limited to doctors and stu¬ 
dents of law and divinity, but the physicians are allowed to 
dress as well as their purses will afford. 

The ladies dress more extravagantly than the most dandi¬ 
fied of the men. Their gowns are cut extremely low in the 
bodice and puffed out in the sleeves; their ornaments are 
profuse. Around their necks are enormous ruffs, tinted in 
various colors ; on their feet are high-heeled boots which add 
to their stature, and hoods, cauls of golden thread, and 
peaked caps are worn on their heads. 



THE OLD GLOBE THEATRE. 






































































































































































































































































































































































































































1558-1603. 


Elizabethan Theatres. 


65 


We wander through the narrow streets, picking our way 
among the saucy prentices, the soberly clad burgesses, the 
russet-hued countrymen, the clerks in black, and gallants 
dressed like the one we have already met. Here, first of all, 
is an inn with peaked gables and a swinging sign, and a play 
is going on in the inn yard. I he poorest of poor strollers in 
our times would have a better theatre than this, which is one 
of the last of its kind. I here is no scenery, curtain, or or¬ 
chestra. A raised platform a few feet square serves for the 
stage, and thereon the players strut. In front of this a few 
common wooden benches are stretched across the paving 
stones, and these are occupied by the spectators, who also fill 
the galleries or balconies around the yard, which lead into the 
chambers of the inn. Apprentices abound, — some engaged 
in busy gossip, some playing cards, while eating, smoking, 
chaffing, and bustling are going on all around. But the gal¬ 
leries are reserved, for the better classes, — better in wealth, 
though little better behaved than the apprentices. 

Across the river, in Southwark, is one of the first of the 
regular playhouses, Shakespeare himself being a member of 
the company and acting in secondary parts, such as the ghost 
in “ Hamlet,” and Adam in “ As You Like It.” Even here the 
performance is given in a very primitive fashion. There is 
no more scenery than in the inn yard. A few screens of 
cloth give the actors an opportunity to make their exits and 
entrances; and in order to let the audience know the place 
which is being represented, a placard is exhibited bearing 
the name of London, Athens, Rome, or Florence, as the 
case may be. When the scene is a bedroom, a bedstead is 
shown on the stage; when it is a tavern, some bottles and 
glasses are displayed; when it is a palace, a gilded chair sur¬ 
mounted by a canopy is put forward; and so a few articles 
are made to symbolize a complete set of furniture. The 
actors wear the dress of their own period, regardless of the 

5 



66 


Young Folks History of London. 

time represented in the play ; the assassins of Caesar are 
armed with Spanish rapiers, and Carthaginian senators are 
provided with watches. T he dresses and other articles used 
belong to persons who derive their livelihood from hiring these 
articles at a fixed price per night to the performers. 

Proceeding in our walk along some of the principal thor¬ 
oughfares, we see the 1 hames, — its water pure and bright, 
not the heavy, black flood of the nineteenth century. Tall 
masts cluster by the banks ; silken covered boats with ladies 
and gentlemen sweep by ; and along the water-side are the 
palaces of the nobility, with steps leading down from their 
gardens to the river. Here is a noisy tavern, one of many, 
for the Londoners are deep drinkers, — and here is a cook- 
shop, with white-aproned cooks crying out, “ Pies well baked,” 
and “ Hot ribs of beef.” 

The Exchange is divided into two parts, — an upper one 
full of bazars and stalls of costly goods, where fashionable 
people lounge in the evening ; and a lower one, where the din 
of Russian, Dutch, French, and Italian is distracting. 

Now we come to a street full of poulterers, who exhibit 
swans prepared for an approaching civic feast; fat capons 
over which a burly old soldier, whom we recognize to be Sir 
John Falstaff, is gloating; and wild ducks from Lincolnshire 
and the marshes of the Thames. 

Cheapside is beautiful to see. Robert Herrick, the poet, 
who was born here, calls it “ golden Cheapside,” and the 
epithet is exact and true. Goldsmiths’ shops, exhibiting Ve¬ 
netian gold cups, jugs, earrings, ornaments, and plaques, are 
clustering together. Persian silks, Turkey carpets, Cashmere 

•i 

shawls, and piles of glossy Paris thread are visible in some of 
the windows, — the spoils of some Spanish carack that never 
reached the end of her voyage. Curious eyes are upon them ; 
a Papist in hiding glares savagely at these Catholic spoils ; a 
jaunty Protestant thanks God, and lifts his ruffed neck a little 



PT AV TN AN TNN YARD 

























































































































« 


1558-1603. The Crowd at St. Paul's. 69 

higher in the air. The shops project on the pavement, — a 
custom which has not yet been discontinued in some parts of 
London, — and the tradesmen at their doors, or in front of 
their shops, if unglazed, press us to spend our angels and half¬ 
angels, with modulated entreaty and commendation. 

In Bread Street every good house is an inn, each with its 
sign either swinging overhead, or blazoned on its second 
story, or stuck daintily over its main door. One called the 
Mermaid is the meeting place of a club, and that gentleman 
in the trunk hose, with meditative air, dreamy eyes, and 
pointed chin, is Sir Walter Raleigh, entering to make inquiries 
after Shakespeare and Fletcher. To-night, or, possibly, to¬ 
morrow night, there will be a goodly company around the 
square inn table, sitting on plain wooden chairs, and talking 
wisely and wittily. 

St. Paul’s is not far away, and a wonderful sight the interior 
presents. Hundreds of people are parading up and down in 
their grand costumes, rattling their velvet-cased and gold- 
tipped rapiers, tossing their feathered hats, throwing back 
their laced cloaks to show their huge gold chains, shaking 
their beards, toying with their love-locks, whispering, swear¬ 
ing, hiring servants (“ I bought him in St. Paul’s,” says Fal- 
staff of Bardolph), talking of the new play and the last 
pamphlet, the exploits of Drake, the whims of Philip of Spain. 
They are Paul’s men, or Paul’s walkers, the fashionable 
loungers of the day and their imitators, the wits and gulls, the 
roisterers and the thieves; needy men seeking a patron, the 
lover reading his sonnet to a friend, the incomparable dandy 
fluttering the town with his last foreign doublet or his copa- 
tain hat. 

Truly, as Dekker has it, “ whilst devotion kneels at her 
prayers, doth profanation walk under her nose in contempt 
of religion.” Characters disperse and rearrange themselves 
like the bits of glass in a kaleidoscope. Puritans, with texts 


70 Young Folks History of London. 

of Scripture embroidered on their shirts; the nobleman, ac¬ 
quiring an appetite for his ordinary at the tavern hard by; 
the country squire, wondering and strange; the thief and the 
scholar; the learned doctor and the rustic ; the priest and the 
player, in black serge and red silk; the sea-captain in blue; 
the Italian count in cherry velvet; the dusky slave in his cot¬ 
ton turban; and the Spanish grandee ablaze with jewels and 
gold, all mingle together for the student of life and character, 
who may find here his Hamlet and his Mercutio, his Tybalt 
and his Romeo. What a rich world it is to study, — a world 
of comedy, romance, even tragedy, and a similar scene may 
be witnessed in Temple Church, and even in Westminster 
Abbey. 

The streets are narrow and ill-paved. The narrower they 
are, the greater is the silence below, and the louder the hum 
of gossip in the upper stories after nightfall. Lights are hung 
out of the upper windows. But many a crime is committed 
in the shadows. 

We may say with Mr. Goadby at the end of our walk : 
“ The pages of the great book wherein Shakespeare read have 
been turned over for us, with their pageantry and pathos, their 
vice and their ambition, their many-sided illustrations of life 
and character. Scraps of conversation, familiar words, refer¬ 
ences to current topics, specimens of foreign beaux and 
ladies, have made it easier for us to understand how the 
quick wit which studied in London should seem to have visited 
so many countries and filled so many professions. Here he 
passed the brightest years of his life, picturing what he saw, as 
well as bodying forth ‘ the forms of things unknown.’ 

“ When we come to dwell upon it, the references to London 
in the historical plays are of a most striking character. They 
show that the poet was familiar with its noble mansions as 
well as its taverns and streets. He places scenes in the 
Tower, at Whitehall, at Westminster Sanctuary, at York 


1558 - 1603 . Shakespeare s Varied Life. 71 

Place, in the Temple Gardens, at Baynard’s Castle, at Ely 
House, at Crosby Place, at Gloucester House, and several 
other inns of note. The player associated with noblemen as 
well as with the roisterers of taverns and the wits of his own 
circle. He lived a rich, full, and varied existence. As for 
the dramatist, he was always busy, studying mankind, reading 
books, penning sonnets, composing plays, and probing his way 
into men’s hearts and the mysteries of invisible things.” 



THE GLOBE THEATRE 
















‘ Of London city I am free, 

And there I first my wife did see, 

And for that very cause,’ said he, 

‘ I love it. 

‘ For though I am a man of trade, 

And free of London city made, 

Yet can I use gun, bill, and blade, 

In battle.’ ” 

Dryden’s Miscellany. 



CHAPTER V. 


THE ’PRENTICE BOYS OF LONDON. 

In the reigns of Elizabeth and James I. the famous ’pren- 
tice boys of London became prominent. In those days, as 
Sir Walter Scott tells us in the “ Fortunes of Nigel,” the shops 
of the London tradesmen were very different from those of 
the present time. 

The goods were exposed for sale in cases, and were only 
defended from the weather by a covering of canvas, the estab¬ 
lishment resembling the stalls and booths of a country fair. 
The shopkeepers of note had the sales-room connected with 
an apartment which opened backward from it, and which 
bore the same resemblance to the front shop that Robinson 
Crusoe’s cavern did to the tent which he erected before it. 
To this the master often retreated, leaving the outer shop to 
be looked after by his stout-bodied and strong-voiced appren¬ 
tices, who kept up the cry, “ What d’ye lack? What d’ye 
lack?” 

They proclaimed the excellence of their wares, and they 
had this advantage over those who in the present day use the 
newspapers for advertising, — they could in many cases adapt 
their address to the peculiar appearance and apparent taste 
of the passers. 

The direct and personal mode of invitation to customers 
became, however, a dangerous temptation to the young wags 
who were employed in the task of solicitation during the 
absence of the principal person interested in the traffic; and, 


74 Young Folks History of London. 

confiding in their numbers and civic union, the ’prentices 
of London were often seduced into taking liberties with the 
passengers, and exercising their wit at the expense of those 
whom they had no hopes of converting into customers by 
their eloquence. If this were resented by any act of vio¬ 
lence, the inmates of each shop were ready to pour forth in 
succor; and in the words of an old song which Dr. Johnson 
used to hum, — 

“Up then rose the ’prentices all, 

Living in London, both proper and tall.” 

Desperate riots often arose, especially when the Templars, 
or other youths connected with the aristocracy, were insulted, 
or fancied they were. Upon such occasions, bare steel was 
frequently opposed to the clubs of the citizens, and death 
sometimes ensued on both sides. The alderman of the ward 
had to call out the householders, and put a stop to the strife 
by overpowering numbers, as the Capulets and Montagues 
are separated upon the stage. 

Scott gives a sketch of two characteristic ’prentice boys, 
Jenkin Vincent (nicknamed Jin Vin) and Frank Tunstall, as 
they stand before the door of their master, David Ramsay, 
“ memory’s monitor, watchmaker, and constructer of horo¬ 
loges to his Most Sacred Majesty, James I.” 

According to custom, they have waited on his table at the 
one o’clock dinner, and have themselves dined with two 
female domestics. They now stand, crying their wares : — 

“In this species of service Jenkin Vincent left his more 
reserved and bashful comrade far in the background. The 
latter could only articulate with difficulty, and as an act of 
duty which he was rather ashamed of discharging, the estab¬ 
lished form of words, — ‘ What d’ ye lack ? What d’ ye lack ? 
Clocks — watches — barnacles ? What d’ ye lack ? Watches 







BEGINNING OF THE RIOTS. 








































































































i6o 3 . 


Bantering Customers. 


77 


— clocks — barnacles? What d’ye lack, sir? What d’ye 
lack, madam ? Barnacles — watches — clocks ? ’ 

u But this dull and dry iteration, however varied by diver¬ 
sity of verbal arrangement, sounded flat when mingled with 
the rich and recommendatory oratory of the bold-faced, deep- 
mouthed, and ready-witted Jenkin Vincent. ‘ What d’ye 
lack, noble sir ? What d’ ye lack, beauteous madam ? ’ he 
said, in a tone at once bold and soothing, which often was so 
applied as both to gratify the persons addressed, and to ex¬ 
cite a smile from other hearers. ‘ God bless your rever¬ 
ence ! ’ to a beneficed clergyman, ‘ the Greek and Hebrew 
have harmed your reverence’s eyes. Buy a pair of David 
Ramsay’s barnacles. The King — God bless his Sacred 
Majesty ! — never reads Hebrew or Greek without them.’ 

“ ‘ Are you well advised of that ? ’ said a fat parson from the 
Vale of Evesham. ‘ Nay, if the Head of the Church wears 
them — God bless his Sacred Majesty ! — I will try what they 
can do for me ; for I have not been able to distinguish one 
Hebrew letter from another since — I cannot remember the 
time — when I had a bad fever. Choose me a pair of his 
Most Sacred Majesty’s own wearing, my good youth.’ 

“ ‘ This is a pair, and please your reverence,’ said Jenkin, 
producing a pair of spectacles which he touched with an air 
of great deference and respect, ‘ which his most blessed 
Majesty placed this day three weeks on his own blessed 
nose ; and would have kept them for his own sacred use, but 
that the setting, being, as your reverence sees, of the purest 
jet, was, as his Sacred Majesty was pleased to say, fitter for 
a bishop than for a secular prince.’ 

“ ‘ His Sacred Majesty the King,’ said the worthy divine, 

‘ was ever a very Daniel in his judgment. Give me the bar¬ 
nacles, my good youth, and who can say what nose they may 
bestride in two years hence ? Our reverend brother of 
Gloucester waxes in years.’ He then pulled out his purse, 


7 8 


Young Folks History of London. 


paid for the spectacles, and left the shop with even a more 
important step than that with which he had paused to 
enter it. 

“ ‘ For shame ! * said Tunstall to his companion; ‘ these 
glasses will never suit one of his years.’ 

“ ‘ You are a fool, Frank,’ said Vincent, in reply ; ‘ had the 
good doctor wished glasses to read with, he would have tried 
them before buying. He does not want to look through 
them himself, and these will serve the purpose of being looked 
at by other folks, as well as the best magnifiers in the shop. 
What d’ ye lack ? ’ he cried, resuming his solicitations. ‘ Mir¬ 
rors for your toilette, my pretty madam ; your head-gear is 
something awry — pity, since it is so well fancied.’ The 
woman stopped and bought a mirror. ‘ What d’ ye lack ? — 
a watch, Master Sergeant — a watch that will go as long as a 
lawsuit, as steady and true as your own eloquence ? ’ 

“ ‘ Hold your peace, sir,’ answered the Knight of the Coif, 
who was disturbed by Vin’s address whilst in deep consulta¬ 
tion with an eminent attorney ; ‘ hold your peace ! You are 
the loudest-tongued varlet betwixt the Devil’s Tavern and 
Guildhall.’ 

“ ‘ A watch,’ reiterated the undaunted Jenkin, ‘that shall 
not lose thirteen minutes in a thirteen years’ lawsuit. He’s 
out of hearing. A watch with four wheels and a bar-move¬ 
ment, — a watch that shall tell you, Master Poet, how long 
the patience of the audience will endure your next piece at 
the Black Bull.’ The bard laughed, and fumbled in the 
pocket of his slops till he chased into a corner, and fairly 
caught, a small piece of coin. 

“ ‘ Here is a tester to cherish thy wit, good boy,’ he said. 

“ ‘ Gramercy,’ said Vin ; ‘ at the next play of yours I will 
bring down a set of roaring boys that shall make all the crit¬ 
ics in the pit, and the gallants on the stage, civil, or else the 
curtain shall smoke for it.’ 




i6o3- 


A Call to Battle. 


79 


“ * Now, that I call mean,’ said Tunstall, ‘ to take the poor 
rhymer’s money, who has so little left behind.’ 

“ ‘ You are an owl, once again,’ said Vincent; ‘ if he has 
nothing left to buy cheese and radishes, he will only dine a 
day the sooner with some patron or some player, for that is 
his fate five days out of the seven.’ 

• •••••• 

“ The well-known cry of ‘ ’Prentices — ’prentices — Clubs 
— clubs ! ’ now rang along Fleet Street; and Jenkin, snatch¬ 
ing up his weapon, which lay beneath the counter ready at 
the slightest notice, and calling to Tunstall to take his bat and 
follow, leaped over the hatch-door which protected the outer 
shop, and ran as fast as he could towards the affray, echoing 
the cry as he ran, and elbowing,.or shoving aside, whoever 
stood in his way. His comrade, first calling to his master to 
give an eye to the shop, followed Jenkin’s example, and ran 
after him as fast as he could, but with more attention to the 
safety and convenience of others; while old David Ramsay, 
with hands and eyes uplifted, a green apron before him, and 
a glass which he had been polishing thrust into his bosom, 
came forth to look after the safety of his goods and chattels, 
knowing, by old experience, that, when the cry of ‘ Clubs ’ 
once arose, he would have little aid on the part of his appren¬ 
tices.” 


He who is tired of London is tired of existence.” 


Dr. Johnson. 


CHAPTER VI. 


LONDON UNDER THE STUARTS- 

Still in the company of Scott let us now walk from Temple 
Bar in the direction of Westminster. Temple Bar was not, 
in the time of James I., the arched screen or gateway of the 
present century; but an open railing, or palisade, which, at 
night, and in times of alarm, was closed with a barricade of 
posts and chains. The Strand, also, was not, as now, a con¬ 
tinued street, although it was beginning already to assume 
that character. It still might be considered as an open road, 
along the south side of which stood various houses and hotels 
belonging to the nobility, having gardens behind them down 
to the water side, with stairs to the river, for the convenience 
of taking boat, which mansions have bequeathed the names 
of their lordly owners to many of the streets leading from the 
Strand to the Thames. The north side .of the Strand was 
also a long line of houses, behind which, as in Saint Martin’s 
Lane, and other points, buildings were rapidly arising; but 
Covent-Garden was still a garden, in the literal sense of the 
word, or at least but beginning to be studded with irregular 
buildings. All that was passing around, however, marked 
the rapid increase of a capital which had long enjoyed peace, 
’wealth, and a regular government. Houses were rising in 
every direction, and the shrewd eye of the citizen already 
saw the period not distant which should convert the nearly 
open highway on which he travelled into a connected and 
regular street, uniting the court and the town with the city of 
London. 

t 


82 Young Folks History of London . 

Charing-Cross was no longer the pleasant solitary village at 
which the judges were wont to breakfast on their way to 
Westminster Hall, but began to resemble the artery through 
which, to use Johnson’s expression, “pours the full tide of 
London population.” The buildings were rapidly increasing, 
yet scarcely gave even a faint idea of its present appear¬ 
ance. 

Whitehall beyond was now full of all the confusion attend¬ 
ing improvement. It was just at the time when James, little 
suspecting that he was employed in constructing a palace 
from the window of which his only son was to pass in order 
that he might die upon a scaffold before it, was busied in 
removing the ancient and ruinous buildings of De Burgh, 
Henry VIII., and Queen Elizabeth, to make way for the 
superb architecture on which Inigo Jones exerted all his 
genius. 

In the reign of James occurred the celebrated gunpowder 
plot. Places had been changed between the Roman Catho¬ 
lics and the Protestants since the time of Queen Mary. It 
was the former who now were persecuted, and though James 
had promised to countenance their religion, he enforced the 
many harsh laws enacted against them by Queen Elizabeth. 
It was in a spirit of vengeance that some fanatics belonging 
to the sect plotted to blow up the Parliament House when 
the king, the royal family, and the members of the Commons 
and of the Lords were all assembled at the opening of the 
session. 

The author of the plot was a gentleman named Catesby, 
who found a willing lieutenant in another gentleman named 
Percy, a descendant of the illustrious house of Northumber¬ 
land. Four others joined them, — one named Thomas Winter, 
another Robert Keyes, another Thomas Bates, and another 
Guy Fawkes, a Spanish soldier of fortune. More were after¬ 
wards added to their number, and all were sworn to secrecy, 






mmp. 


mmmm 


GUY FAWKES DISCOVERED 







































































































































































The Plot Revealed. 


1604. 


85 


the sacrament being given to them as a pledge of the sacred¬ 
ness of their oaths. 

Percy was well acquainted at Court, and, as he was less 
likely to be an object of suspicion than the others, he was 
selected to hire lodgings at Westminster, from which a sub¬ 
terranean passage could be dug to the Parliament House. 
There happened to be a cellar to let directly under the house, 
however, and this was rented for the storage, it was said, of 
winter fuel, which was put in charge of Guy Fawkes, who 
passed as Percy’s servant, and took the name of John Johns¬ 
ton. Fuel there was in the cellar, piles of fagots and logs, as 
any one could see, for the door was never fastened; but 
under these, hidden from view, and awaiting the conspirators’ 
opportunity, were thirty-six barrels of gunpowder. 

Though communicated to more than twenty persons, the 
secret was kept for more than a year, but ten days before 
the meeting of Parliament one of the conspirators, fearing 
for the safety of Lord Monteagle, a relative, who would • be 
present in Parliament, sent him the following anonymous 
letter : — 

“ My Lord, out of the love I bear to some of your friends, 
I have a care of your preservation, therefore I would advise 
you, as you tender your life, to shift off your attendance at 
this parliament, for God and man have concurred to punish 
the wickedness of this time. And think not slightingly of 
this advertisement, but retire yourself into your country, 
where you may expect the event in safety; for though there 
be no appearance of any stir, yet, I say, they will receive a 
terrible blow this parliament, and yet they shall not see who 
hurts them.” 

Lord Monteagle showed the letter to several persons, in¬ 
cluding the king, and a suspicion of its true meaning led to 
a search of all the places and apartments near the Parlia¬ 
ment House. The cellar was not overlooked, and there Guy 


86 Young Folks' History of London . 

Fawkes was discovered in readiness to fire a train of gunpow¬ 
der which led to the concealed barrels. 

Learning of the arrest of Guy Fawkes, the other conspir¬ 
ators fled from London, and were pursued. Catesby, Percy, 
and two others were killed, while defending themselves, in 
a house in which they had taken shelter, and the rest were 
captured and hanged in the Palace Yard. 

. The anniversary of the 5th of November, 1605, on which 
day the plot was to have been consummated, is still celebrated 
in England by bonfires, fireworks, and the burning in effigy of 
Guy Fawkes. It is to English boys what the Fourth of July is 
to American boys, and in connection with it a curious custom 
is preserved : about two hours before the Queen arrives to 
open Parliament the vaults under the buildings are carefully 
searched by the Lord Chamberlain, who, on his return, 
gravely reports that no gunpowder has been discovered. 

In the reign of the unfortunate and misguided Charles 
London attained a position to assert that independence for 
which it had paid so much and struggled so long. The city 
was then closely inhabited by three hundred thousand per¬ 
sons, to whom it was not merely a place of business but a 
place of constant residence. It had as complete a civil and 
military organization as if it had been an independent repub¬ 
lic. Each citizen had his company, the members of which 
were almost as closely bound together as the members of a 
highland clan. The municipal offices were filled by the 
most opulent and respectable merchants of the kingdom. 
The pomp of the magistracy of the capital was inferior only 
to that which surrounded the person of the sovereign. The 
Londoners loved their city, says Macaulay, with that patriar¬ 
chal love which is found only in small communities, like those 
of ancient Greece, or like those which arose in Italy during 
the Middle Ages. The numbers, the intelligence, the wealth 
of the citizens, the democratic form of their local govern- 






GUY FAWKES AND CONSPIRATORS, 

































































1625. 


City Soldiery 


89 


ment, and their vicinity to the Court and to Parliament, 
made them one of the most formidable bodies in the king¬ 
dom. Even as soldiers they were not to be despised. A 
city which could furnish many thousands of armed men, 
r ----- - -----< 



abounding in natural courage, and not absolutely undisci¬ 
plined, was a power in times of dissension ; and on several 
occasions during the civil war the London troops distin¬ 
guished themselves highly. 














go Young Folks History of London. 

When Charles I. sought to impeach Hampden, Pym, and 
others, the citizens instantly took up arms to defend the 
patriots. The shops were closed ; the streets were filled with 
immense crowds; the multitude pressed round the king’s 
coach and insulted him. He had marched into the House 
of Commons at the head of a band of armed men, and had 
intended to arrest the members who had offended him, but 
they had been warned of his approach and had hidden. In 
a few days the Commons openly defied the king, and ordered 
the fugitives to attend in their places at Westminster, and to 
resume their parliamentary duties. The citizens of London 
resolved to escort these patriots back to Parliament, and to 
carry them past the windows of Whitehall Palace, where 
Charles lived, and which had been so recently reconstructed 
by his father. The people hooted and shouted all day before 
the gates of the royal residence. The tyrant king could not 
bear to see the triumph of those he had destined to the 
gallows. On the day preceding that which was fixed for the 
return of Hampden and the rest to the House of Commons, 
he fled from that palace at Whitehall which he was never to 
see again until he was led through it to the scaffold. 

On the nth of January the Thames was covered with 
boats, and its shores with a gazing multitude. Armed ves¬ 
sels, decorated with streamers, were ranged in two lines from 
London Bridge to Westminster Hall. The members re¬ 
turned upon the river in a ship manned by sailors who had 
volunteered their services. The trainbands, or militia, of the 
city, under the command of the sheriffs, marched along the 
Strand, attended by a vast crowd of spectators, to guard 
the avenues of the House of Commons ; and thus, with shouts 
and large discharges of ordnance, the accused patriots were 
brought back by the people whom they had served and for 
whom they had suffered. The restored members, as soon as 
they had entered the House, expressed, in the warmest terms, 






EXECUTION OF CHARLES THE FIRST 






















































1642 


Power of the City 


93 


their gratitude to the citizens of London. The sheriffs were 
thanked by the speaker in the name of the Commons; and 
orders were given that a guard selected from the trainbands 
of the city should attend daily to watch over the safety of 
the Parliament. 

London had thus become a great power in the nation. 
“ But for the hostility of the city, Charles I. would never 



BURIAL OF CHARLES THE FIRST. 


have been vanquished,” says Macaulay; “ and without the 
help of the city, Charles II. could scarcely have been re¬ 
stored.” 

Nevertheless the citizens usually had a smiling face for 
royalty ; and if they sometimes made a show of defiance, 
they very often became alarmed at the extent of their own 
courage, and hastened to retreat from that attitude. James I. 
published a “ Book of Sports,” authorizing pastimes on Sun- 

























































































































94 Young Folks History of London . 

day, and, notwithstanding the license given, the Lord Mayor 
opposed this desecration of the Sabbath, even ordering the 
king’s carriage to be stopped when it drove through the 
city during divine service. This threw James into a great 
rage. 

“ I thought that I was king,” he exclaimed. 

“ Ah, then,” said the mayor, “ if the king relieves me of 
my superiority in the city, it is evidently proper for me to 
obey his Majesty; ” and he allowed the carriage to pass. 

In the reign of Charles II. London had a population of 
about half a million, and compared with other cities of the 
kingdom it was proportionately larger at that time than it 
is now. At present it has only about six times the population 
of Liverpool, but it then had seventeen times as many inhab¬ 
itants as the largest of the other cities. 

This reign was an eventful one for the great city. A pes¬ 
tilence swept away more than a hundred thousand human 
beings in six months; and the dead-cart had scarcely ceased 
to go its rounds, when a fire laid the whole city in ruins. 
Both of these calamities are described in separate chapters. 
The gayeties of the city were eclipsed by the severity of the 
Puritans, and its civic festivals were shorn of some of their 
famous splendor. But it rose from its ashes like a modern 
Chicago, and the celerity with which it was rebuilt excited 
the admiration of other countries. 

Though Charles II. revoked the old charter of the city, 
the external splendor of the municipal government was not 
diminished. Under the administration of the Puritans the 
ancient fame of the city had declined, but with the Restoration 
the mayor and aldermen displayed the greatest luxuriance 
and hospitality. On great occasions the mayor appeared 
on horseback, attended by a long cavalcade inferior in mag¬ 
nificence only to that which before a coronation escorted the 
sovereign from the Tower to Westminster. He was never seen 






ROASTING THE RUMP. 













































































































































































































I 














1660-1685. 


Condition of Streets. 


97 


in public without his rich robe, his hood of black velvet, his 
gold chain, his jewel, and a retinue of servants. Nor did the 
world find anything ludicrous in the pomp which surrounded 
him, for it was not more than became the acknowledged dig¬ 
nity of London. That city, says Macaulay, exercised almost 
as great an influence on the politics of England as Paris exer¬ 
cises on the politics of France. London was superior in in¬ 
telligence to the rest of the kingdom, and a government which 
had the support of the city could obtain as much money from 
it in a day as would have taken months to collect elsewhere 
in the country. The military resources of the capital were 
also great. The power which the lord lieutenants exercised 
in other parts of the kingdom was in London intrusted to a 
commission of eminent citizens. Under the orders of this 
commission were twelve regiments of foot and two regiments 
of horse, a little army of drapers’ apprentices and journey¬ 
men tailors, with common-council men for captains, and 
aldermen for colonels. 

But though London had its palaces, in thinking of it as it 
was in the time of Charles II., we must not imagine that it 
at all resembled a well-managed modern city. Sanitary sci¬ 
ence was then unknown, and even the principal streets were 
filthy beyond description. The gutters were filled with liquid 
refuse, which was spurted right and left as the carriages 
passed through it, and people were obliged to hug the walls 
to prevent themselves from being splashed. When two per¬ 
sons pressing against the wall met, one, of course, had to 
give way,'and disputes as to which it should be were com- 
✓ mon. If two roisterers met, they cocked their hats in each 
other’s faces, and pushed each other about till the weaker 
was shoved towards the puddle. If he was a mere bully he 
sneaked off; but if he was pugnacious the encounter ended 
in a duel. 

A graphic picture of this period is given by Macaulay. The 



98 Young Folks' History of London . 

houses were not numbered, but this did not matter, for few 
persons could read, and it was necessary to use marks which 
the most ignorant could understand. The shops were dis¬ 
tinguished by painted signs, which gave a gay and grotesque 
aspect to the streets. 

When evening closed in the difficulty and danger of walk¬ 
ing about became serious indeed. Pails were emptied from 

the garret windows with little 
regard for those who were 
passing below. The streets 
were unlighted, and the pave¬ 
ments were so full of holes 
that falls were of constant 
occurrence. Thieves and 
robbers plied their trade with 
impunity, and young black¬ 
guards of good birth and 
social position swaggered 
about by night, breaking 
windows, and insulting both 
men and women. 

But in the last part of 
Charles’s reign the police 
force was strengthened, and 
the streets were lighted. Ed- 
falconer to james i. ward Heming obtained the 

exclusive privilege of illumi¬ 
nating London. He undertook, for a moderate consideration, 
to place a light before every tenth door, on moonless nights, 
from Michaelmas to Lady Day, and from six to twelve of the 
clock. Those who now see the city illuminated night after 
night with thousands of lamps may smile to think of Hem- 
ing’s lanterns, which glimmered feebly before one house in 
ten during a small part of one night in three. But though a 















I 



A LORD MAYOR 



































































































































































































1660-1685. Establishment of Coffee-Houses. 101 

few of his contemporaries opposed the improvement, most 
of them praised the new light enthusiastically, and asked 
what were the boasted achievements of Archimedes com¬ 
pared with the achievements of a man who had turned the 
nocturnal shades into noonday. 

Light and police were much needed. A few yards away 
from Fleet Street was a region inhabited by thieves and out¬ 
laws, — Alsatia or Whitefriars, which retained the privilege 
belonging to the monks, who gave the place the latter name, 
of protecting debtors from arrest. No honest person was 
safe, and the police were unable to protect within these 
precincts. The privilege of sanctuary intended for debtors 
only was extended to criminals of all kinds, and at the cry of 
“ Rescue ! ” a fierce rabble rushed out to attack any intruder. 
Yet within a short walk of this cesspool were the chambers 
in which Somers was studying history and law, the chapel in 
which Tillotson was preaching, the coffee-house in which 
Dryden was criticising poems and plays, and the hall in which 
the Royal Society was examining the discoveries of Isaac 
Newton. 

Any one who wishes to learn more about Alsatia should 
read Scott’s “ Fortunes of Nigel.” 

The coffee-houses became recognized institutions about 
this time, and the large number of them especially distin¬ 
guished London from other cities. There were no papers 
then, and in these houses of entertainment the citizens 
assembled to learn and discuss the news while they smoked 
and sipped coffee or more intoxicating beverages. Every 
rank and profession, and every shade of religious and political 
opinion, had its own coffee-house. There were houses near 
St. James Park in which the fops congregated, dressed in 
Parisian attire. The atmosphere was like that of a perfumers 
shop, and even the snuff (the only form of tobacco used) 
was scented. There-were other houses in which the tobacco 


102 Young Folks' History of London . 

smoke was like a fog, and at some of these the literary men 
gathered, including John Dryden. The great aim of the 
customers here was to get near the poet’s chair, which was 
always in the warmest nook near the fire, and to hear his 
opinions on the last tragedy was thought a privilege. There 
were other houses, again, in which the leading doctors and 
medical students met; others which depended on Puritans 
for customers; others restricted to Jews; and others where, 
as good Protestants believed, Jesuits planned another great 
fire and cast silver bullets to shoot the king. 

The Londoner of the period was a being different from the 
other inhabitants of England : the influence of the great city 
had sharpened him, and his country cousins were amazed at 
his wit. The country cousins were overcome with the size 
and bustle of London then, as they are when they come from 
the rural counties now, and the historian gives us an amusing 
account of the misadventures of a squire in visiting the 
metropolis. “ He was as easily distinguished from the 
resident population as a Turk or a Lascar. His dress, his 
gait, his accent, the manner 'in which he stared at the shops, 
stumbled into the gutters, and stood under the waterspouts, 
marked him out as an excellent subject for the operations of 
swindlers. Bullies jostled him into the mud, and the hackney 
coachmen splashed him from head to foot. Thieves explored 
with perfect security the huge pockets of his horseman’s coat, 
while he stood entranced by the splendors of the Lord Mayor’s 
show. Rogues sore from recent whippings at the cart’s-tail 
introduced themselves to him, and appeared to him the most 
honest, friendly gentlemen that he had ever seen. If he asked 
his way to St. James’s, his informant sent him to Mile End, the 
opposite direction. If he went into a shop, he was instantly 
discovered to be a fit purchaser of everything that nobody 
else would buy, — of second-hand embroidery, copper rings, 
and watches that would not go. If he rambled into any 



A LADY MAYORESS 


































































1660-1685. The Royal Society. 105 

fashionable coffee-house, he became a mark for the derision 
of fops and the grave waggery of Templars. Enraged and 
mortified, he soon returned to his mansion, and there, in the 
homage of his tenants, and the conversation of his boon com¬ 
panions, found consolation for the vexations and humiliations 
which he had undergone.” 

The reign of the second Charles was a period of social 
folly and political corruption, which an Englishman cannot 
look back upon without a feeling of shame. But out of the 
waste sprang up one flower of science. Science became a 
fashion, and the frivolous king encouraged the pursuit of it, 
perhaps from the love of it, and perhaps, as some historians 
say, to divert the minds of his subjects from his own misgov- 
ernment. He himself was a chemist, and took an interest in 
the problems of navigation. One of his few good works was 
the founding of the Royal Society, which marks the opening 
of a great age of scientific discovery. Poets and courtiers, 
wits and fops, joined it. The Duke of Buckingham varied 
his rhyming, drinking, and fiddling, by fits of devotion to the 
laboratory. Prince Rupert gave serious hours of study to the 
curious glass toys which bear his name. But with the true 
science were mixed all sorts of chimeras, as we may see in 
the following extracts from the catalogue of objects in a 
museum connected with the Society : — 

The quills of a porcupine, which on certain occasions the 
creature can shoot at the pursuing enemy and erect at 
pleasure. 

The flying squirrel, which for a good nut-tree will pass a 
river on the bark of a tree, erecting his tail for a sail. 

The leg bone of an elephant, brought out of Syria for the 
thigh bone of a giant. In winter, when it begins to rain, elephants 
are mad, and so continue from April to September, chained to 
some tree, and then become tame again. 

Tortoises, when turned on their backs, will sometimes fetch 
deep sighs and shed abundance of tears. 


106 Young Folks' History of London. 

A humming bird and nest, said to weigh but twelve grains ; 
his feathers are set in gold, and sell at a great rate. 

A bone, said to be taken out of a mermaid’s head. 

The largest whale, liker an island than an animal. 

The white shark, which sometimes swallows men whole. 

A siphalter, said with its suckers to fasten on a ship, and 
stop it under sail. 

A stag beetle, whose horns, worn in a ring, are good against 
the cramp. 

A mountain cabbage. One reported three hundred feet high. 

Thus, though science was dawning, the heads of its 
devotees were still full of dreams. 

Many of their contemporaries perceived the chimeras 
which the members were pursuing, and the author of 
“ Hudibras ” also laughed at the philosophers. Swift has 
satirized them, and has given us the following caricature 
of one of them : “ The first man I saw was of a meagre 
aspect, with sooty hands and face, his hair and beard long, 
ragged, and singed in several places. His clothes, shirt, and 
skin were all of the same color. He had been eight years 
on a project for extracting sunbeams out of cucumbers, 
which were to be put in phials hermetically sealed, and let 
out to warm the air in raw, inclement summers. He told 
me he did not doubt that, in eight years more, he should be 
able to supply the governor’s gardens with sunshine at a 
reasonable rate ; but he complained that his stock was low, 
and entreated me to give him something as an encourage- 

e 

ment to ingenuity.” 

» 

We have forgotten to mention a curious feature of the 
celebrations which signalled the restoration of Charles II. 

Cromwell placed two regiments in the House of Com¬ 
mons with the intention of forcing the members to condemn 
Charles I. Forty-one of the legislators were imprisoned, and 
one hundred and six were ordered, like schoolboys, to go 


1660-1685. 


Roasting the Rump. 


107 


home, all of these being loyal to the king. The remaining 
sixty were favorable to the Protector, and at a later period 
they were derisively named the Rump, i. e., the rump or fag- 
end of the whole House. 

When Charles II. came into power there were great re¬ 
joicings. Bonfires were lighted in the Strand and Fleet 
Street, and effigies of the Rump were hanged, burned, and 
pelted with stones. 

“ Praise God Barebones ” lived in Fleet Street, and while 
the effigies were burning the mob attacked his house. The 
Puritans had had their day, and their future lay far beyond 
London. 


“ Life and Thought have gone away 
Side by side, 

Leaving door and windows wide : 

Careless tenants they ! 

“ All within is dark as night; 

In the windows is no light; 

And no murmur at the door, 

So frequent on its hinge before. 

“ Close the door, the shutters close, 

Or through the windows we shall see 
The nakedness and vacancy 
Of the dark, deserted house. 

“ Come away ; no more of mirth 
Is here or merry-making sound. 

The house was builded of the earth, 

And shall fall again to ground. 

“ Come away : for Life and Thought 
Here no longer dwell ; 

But in a city glorious — 

A great and distant city — have bought 
A mansion incorruptible. 

Would they could have stayed with us.” 

Tennyson. 




CHAPTER VII. 


THE PLAGUE. 

The plague was anticipated before it appeared as an epi¬ 
demic, and a close watch was kept on ships coming from ports 
where the awful disease prevailed. But it is supposed that 
some infected person evaded the quarantine authorities, and 
introduced the pestilence into London. Occasional cases 
were discovered for some months before it became general, 
and when the hot weather of the summer of 1665 set in, it 
broke out with a virulence that swept away about one hundred 
thousand persons in six months. 

All who could afford to do so fled as soon as the danger 
of remaining became apparent. Shops were shut up, fac¬ 
tories closed, and ships did not dare to come near the 
afflicted city. Persons who were well at noon were dead 
before night. Entire families were carried off, and their 
houses left open and uncared for. Streets which had been 
thronged were deserted, and instead of the shrill cries of 
trade the shrieks of the bereaved pierced the air as the dead- 
cart came along to carry young and old, without funeral rite, 
to the vast common pits which superseded the ordinary 
graves. The stricken houses were marked with a large red 
cross, and the words “ Lord have mercy upon us ” were 
painted on the doors. From the moment this sign appeared 
the house was closed, and no one was allowed to leave it. 
The well were shut up with those persons in the same family 
who were afflicted, and the disease was communicated from 
one person to another until all were dead. 



no Yotmg Folks History of London . 

Daniel Defoe, the author of “ Robinson Crusoe,” was 
only four years old at this time, but he has left a narrative 
of the plague which, though it is in part a work of imagi¬ 
nation, embodies many true incidents, and gives a more vivid 
account of the calamity than any other work. 

Let us turn to his pages, then, for some pictures of the 
incidents which might have been observed by any one con¬ 
fined in the city at this unfortunate period. 

The face of London became strangely altered, and was all in 
tears. Nobody put on black, or even made a formal dress of 
mourning for their nearest friends ; but the shrieks of women 
and children at the windows and doors of their houses were 
so frequent that it was enough to pierce the stoutest heart in 
the world. Tears were seen in nearly every house, but 
towards the end men’s hearts became hardened, and death 
was so constantly before them, that they did not care much 
for the loss of their friends, expecting that they themselves 
would be summoned the next hour. 

Quacks of all sorts took advantage of the terror of the 
people to impose charms and nostrums upon them; absurd 
predictions were made in almanacs, and fanatics rushed 
through the streets prophesying the destruction of the city. 
One of the latter in particular cried, like Jonah to Nineveh, 
“ Yet forty days, and London shall be destroyed.” Another 
ran about naked, except a pair of drawers about his waist, 
crying day and night, “ Oh ! the great and the dreadful 
God ! ” repeating these words continually, with a voice and 
countenance full of horror. Nobody ever saw him stop or 
rest, or take any sustenance. 

These things terrified the people to the last degree; and 
next to them were the dreams of old women, or the inter¬ 
pretation by old women of other people’s dreams, which 
put many out of their wits. Some heard voices warning 
them to be gone, and saying there would be such a plague 



SOLOMON EAGLE 


























































































































































Old Time Guards. 


1665. 


113 


in London that the living would not be able to bury the 
dead; others saw apparitions in the air. The imagination 
of the people was really turned wayward and possessed; 
and they saw shapes and figures, representations and appear¬ 
ances, which had nothing in them but air and vapor. Here, 
they said, they saw a flaming sword held in a hand, coming 
out of a cloud, with a point hanging directly over the city; 
there they saw hearses and coffins in the air, and there again 
heaps of dead bodies lying unburied. 

These terrors made them an easy prey to the quacks, and 
the posts of houses and the corners of streets were plastered 
all over with advertisements of “ infallible preventative pills 
against the plague,” “ never-failing preservatives against the 
infection,” “sovereign cordials against the corruption of the 
air,” and “royal antidotes against all kinds of infections.” 

The methods of the impostors were much the* same as 
they are now, as may be seen from the following specimens 
of their announcements : — 


An eminent High-Dutch physician, newly come over from 
Holland, where he resided during all the time of the great 
plague last year in Amsterdam, and cured multitudes of people 
that actually had the plague upon them. 

An Italian gentlewoman, just arrived from Naples, having 
a choice secret to prevent infection, which she found out by 
her great experience, and did wonderful cures with it in the 
late plague there, wherein there died twenty thousand in one 
day. 

An ancient gentlewoman, having practised with great success 
in the late plague in this city, anno 1636, gives her advice only 
to the female sex. To be spoken with, &c. 

An experienced physician who has long studied the doctrine 
of antidotes against all sorts of poison and infection, has, after 
forty years’ practice, arrived at such skill as may, with God’s 
blessing, direct persons how to prevent being touched by any 
contagious distemper. He directs the poor gratis. 

8 


114 Young Folks History of London. 

One swindler sought to entrap the poor by offering them 
advice for nothing, as in the advertisement above given, and 
large numbers of persons went to him, hoping to be benefited. 
The gist of his advice was to buy a medicine which he had 
for sale. “ But, sir,” said one woman, “ I am a poor alms- 
woman, and am kept by the parish, and your advertise¬ 
ments say you give the poor your help for nothing.” “ Ay, 
good woman,” replied the quack, “ so I do; I give my ad¬ 
vice byt not my physic ! ” “ Alas, sir,” said she, “ that is a 

snare laid for the poor, then : you advise them gratis to buy 
your physic for their money; so does every shopkeeper with 
his wares.” Here the woman began to give him ill words, 
and stood at his door all that day telling her tale to the 
people that came, till the doctor, finding she turned away 
his customers, was obliged to call her upstairs again and give 
her his box of physic for nothing, which, perhaps, too, as 
Defoe says, was good for nothing when she had it. 

The plague defied all medicines. The very physicians 
were seized with it, with their preservatives in their mouths ; 
and men went about prescribing to others and telling them 
what to do, till the tokens were upon them, and they dropped 
down dead, destroyed by that very enemy they directed 
others to oppose. This was the case of several physicians, 
even some of the most eminent, and of several of the most 
skilful surgeons. Many quacks also died, who had the folly to 
trust in their own medicines, and who ought rather, like other 
thieves, to have run away, sensible of their guilt, from the jus¬ 
tice that they could not but expect should punish them. 

Many consciences were awakened, many hard hearts melted 
into tears, and many a penitent confession was made of crimes 
long concealed. Many a robbery, many a murder, was then 
confessed aloud. People might be heard even in the streets 
calling upon God for mercy through Jesus Christ, and say¬ 
ing, “ I have been a thief; 1 have been an adulterer ; I have 
been a murderer,” and the like. 


1665. One of Defoe s Stories. 115 

One story we reproduce almost entirely in Defoe’s own 
language : — 

“As I went along Houndsditch one morning about eight 
o’clock there was a great noise. A watchman had been em¬ 
ployed to keep his post at the door of a house which was 
infected, and shut up. He had been there all night for 
two nights together, as he told his story, and the day-watch¬ 
man had now come to relieve him. All this while no noise 
had been heard in the house, and no light had been seen. 
The inmates had called for nothing, and had sent him on no 
errands, which used to be the chief business of the watch¬ 
men ; neither had they given him any trouble from Monday 
afternoon, when he heard a great crying and screaming in 
the house, occasioned, as he supposed, by some of the 
family dying just at that time. It seems the night before the 
watchman came on duty the dead-cart, as it was called, had 
been stopped there, and a servant-maid had been brought 
down to the door dead, and the buriers, or bearers, as they 
were called, had put her into the cart, wrapped only in a 
green rug, and carried her away. 

“The watchman had knocked at the door, and nobody 
had answered, until at last one looked out and said, with 
an angry, quick tone, and yet a kind of crying voice, or a 
voice of one that was crying, ‘ What d’ ye want, that you make 
such a knocking?’ He answered, ‘I am the watchman. 
How do you do? What is the matter?’ The person an¬ 
swered, ‘What is that to you? Stop the dead-cart.’ This, 
it seems, was about one o’clock ; soon after, as the fellow said, 
he stopped the dead-cart and then knocked again, but no¬ 
body answered. He continued knocking, and the bell-man 
cried several times, ‘ Bring out your dead ; ’ but still nobody 
answered, and the driver, being called to other houses, drove 
away. 


ii 6 Young Folks History of London, 

“ The watchman knew not what to make of all this, so he 
let them alone till the morning-man, or day-watchman, as they 
called him, came to relieve him. Giving him an account of 
the particulars, they knocked at the door a great while, but 
nobody answered, and they observed that the window or 
casement, at which the person looked out who had answered 
before, continued open, being up two pair of stairs. 

“ Upon this the two men, to satisfy their curiosity, got a long 
ladder, and one of them went up to the window, and looked 
into the room, where he saw a woman lying dead upon the 
floor, in a dismal manner, having no clothes on her but her 
shift; but though he called aloud, and, putting in his long staff, 
knocked hard on the floor, yet nobody stirred or answered, 
neither could he hear any noise in the house. 

“ He came down again upon this, and acquainted his fellow, 
who went up also, and finding it just so they resolved to ac¬ 
quaint either the Lord Mayor or some other magistrate of it, 
but did not offer to go in at the window. The'magistrate, it 
seems, upon the information of the two men, ordered the 
house to be opened, a constable and other persons being 
appointed to be present, that nothing might be plundered ; 
and this was so done. Nobody was found in the house but 
that young woman, who having been infected and past re¬ 
covery, had been left to die by herself. Every one else was 
gone, having found some way to elude the watchman, and 
to get open the door, or get out at some back door or over 
the tops of the houses, so that he knew nothing of it; and 
as to those cries and shrieks which he heard, it was sup¬ 
posed they were the passionate cries of the family at this 
bitter parting, the body being that of the sister to the mis¬ 
tress of the family. I he man of the house, his wife, several 
children and servants, had all gone and fled, whether sick 
or sound, I could never learn, nor, indeed, did I make 
much inquiry after it. 


1665. 


Evading the Law. 


n; 


“ At another house, as I was informed, in the street next 
within Aldgate, a whole family was shut up and locked in, 
because the maid-servant was taken sick. The master of the 
house had complained by his friends to the next alderman, 
and to the Lord Mayor, and had consented to have the maid 
carried to the pesthouse, but was refused; so the door was 
marked with a red cross, a padlock being fastened on the 
outside, and a watchman set to keep the door, according to 
public order. 

“ After the master of the house found that there was no 
remedy, and that he, his wife, and his children were locked 
up with this poor distempered servant, he called to the 
watchman, and told him he must go and fetch a nurse to 
attend the poor girl, as it would be certain death to them 
all if they were obliged to nurse her; he also told him 
plainly that, if he would not do this, the maid would perish 
either of the distemper, or be starved for want of food, for 
he was resolved none of his family should go near her, and 
she lay in the garret, four story high, where she could not 
cry out or call to anybody for help. 

“ The watchman consented and went and fetched a nurse, 
as he was appointed, and brought her to them the same 
evening. During this interval the master of the house took 
his opportunity to break a large hole through his shop into a 
bulk or stall, where formerly a cobbler had sat before or under 
his shop window; but the tenant, as may be supposed, at 
such a dismal time as that, was dead or removed, and so the 
trespasser had the key in his own keeping. Having made 
his way into this stall, which he could not have done if the 
watchman had been at the door, the noise he was obliged to 
make being such as would have alarmed the latter,— I say, 
having made his way into this stall, he sat still till the watch¬ 
man returned with the nurse, and all the next day also; but 
the night following, having contrived to send the watchman on 




118 Young Folks History of London. 

another trifling errand, which, as I take it, was to an apothe¬ 
cary’s for a plaster for the maid, which he was to stay for the 
making up, or some other such errand that might secure his 
staying some time; in that time he conveyed himself and all 
his family out of the house, and left the nurse and the watch¬ 
man to bury the poor wench, that is, throw her into the cart, 
and take care of the house. 

“ Not far from the same place they blew up a watch¬ 
man with gunpowder, and burnt the poor fellow dreadfully; 
and while he made hideous cries, and nobody would venture 
to come near to help him, the whole family that were able to 
stir got out at the windows, one story high; two that were 
left sick calling out for help, care was taken to give them 
nurses to look after them; but the persons fled were never 
found, till after the plague was abated they returned ; but as 
nothing could be proved, so nothing could be done to them. 

“ In other cases, some had gardens and walls, or pales 
between them and their neighbors; or yards and back¬ 
houses ; and these, by friendship and entreaties, would 
get leave to get over those walls or pales, and so go out 
at their neighbors’ doors; or by giving money to their ser¬ 
vants, get them to let them through in the night, so that, in 
short, the shutting up of houses was in nowise to be de¬ 
pended upon; neither did it answer the end at all, serving 
more to make the people desperate, and drive them to such 
extremities as that they would break out at all adventures.” 

1 he terror of the people increased. Some went crying 
and wringing their hands along the streets, calling upon God 
for mercy. One fanatic named Solomon Eagle went about 
quite naked, with a pan of burning charcoal on his head, re¬ 
peating the words, “ Spare us, good Lord, spare thy people 
whom thou hast redeemed with thy most precious blood ! ” 

Hundreds of bodies were buried in one pit, being tossed 


i66 5 . 


End of the Plague. 


119 


into it like stones from the carts, without any ceremony. In 
the delirium of their pain many threw themselves out of win¬ 
dows, or shot themselves, and mothers murdered their own 
children in their frenzy. 

London, indeed, presented a terrible picture of desolation. 
The grass grew in the principal thoroughfares; and the few 
persons who ventured to walk in the streets crossed from side 
to side to avoid one another. 

In September there were a few days when the deaths 
decreased, but these were followed by a fresh outburst of the 
disease, which carried off ten thousand persons in one week. 
The autumn equinox was at hand, however, and its winds 
purified the air. The disease gradually disappeared ; thou¬ 
sands of people gladly returned to their homes, and in 
the following February the king was again established at 
Whitehall. 


Heavens, what a pile ! whole ages perished there 
And one bright blaze turned learning into air! ” 



CHAPTER VIII. 


THE GREAT FIRE. 

Scarcely had the plague disappeared when, as we have 
said, London was visited by another great calamity. The 
city at this time was full of wooden houses, covered with 
pitch, and, as we have seen, most of the streets were ex¬ 
tremely narrow. The great sign-boards that hung out from 
every shop almost touched each other from opposite sides, 
a>nd made links of communication, in case of fire, hardly less 
effective than trains of gunpowder. In fact, if one house 
caught fire it was next to impossible to save those adjoining 
it, as only the lightest wind was necessary to carry the sparks 
from it to them. 

The authorities seem to have been aware of the danger to 
which the city was exposed from this source. In the reign 
of Richard I. it was ordered that all persons living in large 
houses should have a ladder ready to succor their neighbors 
in case of fire; that they should have a barrel full of water 
before their doors; that the city should provide an iron 
crook, such, no doubt, as is used by modern hook and ladder 
companies, and that the beadle should have “ a good horn, 
loudly sounding.” 

Perhaps these ordinances were disregarded in the reign of 
Charles II., and at all events they could not have been of 
much use in so inflammable a city as London then was. If 
there had been the electric telegraph, instead of a good horn, 
to summon aid, and steam fire-engines, instead of tubs of 


122 Young Folks History of London. 

water, to extinguish the flames, they would scarcely have 
saved London from the conflagration which broke out on 
Sunday morning, Sept. 2, 1666. 

The fire originated at a baker’s shop in Pudding Lane near 
New Fishstreet Hill, and being driven by a strong northeast 
wind, it rapidly spread to the contiguous buildings, most of 
which were of lath and plaster and wood. 

There lived in London at this time a garrulous gentleman 
named Samuel Pepys, the secretary of the navy, who kept a 
record of whatever came under his notice; and his Diary, 
which is a most useful work of historic reference, gives among 
other things a good account of the fire. He tells how his 
maid-servants had been sitting up till after midnight on .Satur¬ 
day preparing Sunday’s dinner, and how they called him at 
about three o’clock in the morning to tell him of a great 
blaze which they could see in the city. Three hundred houses 
had been burned down by daybreak, and the flames were 
then increasing, having seized on London Bridge. The 
people were in a panic, and, instead of uniting to put the fire 
out, rushed hither and thither, each looking after his own 
property. 

Pepys hurried off to see the king at Whitehall, and the 
latter gave orders that all houses in the way of the fire should 
be pulled down. He then returned to the city. “ I walked 
along Watling Street as well as I could,” he writes, “ every 
creature coming away loaded with goods to save, and here 
and there sick people carried away in beds. Extraordinary 
good goods carried in carts and on backs. At last met my 
Lord Mayor in Canning Street, like a man spent, with a 
handkercher about his neck.” 

When Pepys gave him the king’s orders the mayor seemed 
quite overpowered and exclaimed, “ What can I do? I am 
spent; people will not obey me. I have been pulling down 
houses; but the fire overtakes us faster than we can do it.” 






THE GREAT FIRE IN LONDON 






















































































1666. Mr. Pepyss House in Danger. 125 

By this time people were filling the churches with their 
property, little suspecting how many of these massive struc¬ 
tures would be consumed; but the fire still spread both east 
and west, and those who a few hours before had thought their 
dwellings secure from the flames began now to tremble, and 
in hot haste to remove their goods to any shelter they could 
find. In many cases furniture was removed twice if not three 
times, the place at first deemed safe being in a few hours in 
danger. 

The peremptory order still was to pull down houses as the 
only means of stopping the flames, — the principle being just 
the same as that which dictates the cutting away of a tract of 
grass before a prairie fire. 

It is not possible to exaggerate the horror and confusion 
which prevailed. Many people were so overcome with 
misery and despair that they made hardly any efforts to 
lessen the calamity, though most of them struggled hard to 
save their property. Mr. Pepys, whose house was in the very 
heart of the city, did not fear at first for his own premises, but 
the second day of the fire he grew so alarmed that he began 
removing his valuables. By Monday, the 4th, it was com¬ 
puted that there were above ten thousand houses in flames, 
and the heat was so terrible that no one could approach the 
conflagration. 

The fire now reached the Temple on the west and Tower 
Street on the east, including, besides Fenchurch Street and 
Gracechurch Street (which had been the earlier prey), Fleet 
Street, Ludgate Hill, the Old Bailey, Newgate, Watling Street, 
Warwick Lane, Thames Street, and Billingsgate. A number 
of churches, as well as St. Paul’s and the Royal Exchange, 
were consumed. Some of the burning buildings looked like 
palaces of fiery gold or burnished brass, and the stones of 
the cathedral are described as flying about like shot. Two 
hundred thousand people were made homeless. 


126 Young Folks History of London. 

“All the skie,” says Evelyn, a writer of the period, who, 
like Pepys, has left us a valuable diary, “ was of a fiery aspect, 
like the top of a burning oven, and the light seen above forty 
miles round about for many' nights. God grant mine eyes 
may never behold the like, who now saw ten thousand houses 
all in one flame ; the noise and crackling and thunder of the 
impetuous flames, the shrieking of women and children, the 
hurry of people, the fall of towers, houses, and churches, was 
like an hideous storme, and the aire all about so hot and in¬ 
flam’d that at last one was not able to approch it, so that 
' they were forc’d to stand still and let the flames burn on, 
which they did for neere two miles in length and one in 
bredth. The clowds also of smoke were dismall and reached 
upon computation neere fifty-six miles in length. Thus I 
left it this afternoone burning, a resemblance of Sodom, or of 
the last day.” 

By Tuesday, the 5th, the fire reached Holborn and the 
entrance of Smithfield, but the wind now fell, and there was 
more hope of staying the progress of the flames. Instead of 
being pulled down, the houses were blown up with gunpowder, 
a measure which some seamen proposed, and which might 
have saved the whole city had not some avaricious men 
refused to adopt it. But it was some days yet before the 
conflagration was completely extinguished, and on the 7th 
Evelyn records the “extraordinary difficulty” of walking 
among the ruins and “ clambering over heaps of yet smoking 
rubbish . . . the ground under my feet being so hot that it 
even burnt the soles of my shoes.” 

Very few lives were lost in the fire, but the misery of the 
homeless multitude was great. The king went among the 
people, distributing money to them, and issued a proclama¬ 
tion for their relief; but they were too numerous to be prop¬ 
erly housed, and they were glad of the shelter of tents and 
huts in the open country all round London. Eighty-eight 


1666. Wren's Plans for Rebuilding the City . 127 

churches and thirteen thousand two hundred houses had 
been consumed, and the loss of property was estimated at 
$36,925,000. 

Nevertheless the people bore up with extraordinary forti¬ 
tude. “ They beheld,” says an old writer, “ the ashes of 
their houses, gates, and temples without the least expression 
of pusillanimity. If philosophers had done this, it had well 
become their profession of wisdom ; if gentlemen, the noble¬ 
ness of their breeding and blood would have required it; but 
that such greatness of heart should be found amongst the 
poor artisans and the obscure multitude is no doubt one of 
the most honorable events that ever happened.” 

Within three days of the close of the fire Sir Christopher 
Wren, the great architect, submitted plans to the king for the 
rebuilding of the city. He proposed to have the Exchange 
in the centre, with ten streets, each sixty feet wide, converg¬ 
ing to it. The smallest streets were to be thirty feet wide, 
excluding all narrow, dark courts and alleys without thorough¬ 
fares. 

The churches were to occupy commanding positions along 
the principal thoroughfares, and to be designed according to 
the best forms for capacity and hearing, and adorned with 
useful porticos and lofty ornamental towers and steeples in 
the greater parishes. 

Wren intended that the churchyards should be carefully 
planted and adorned, and be a sort of girdle round the 
town, wishing them to be an ornament to the city, and also 
a check upon its growth. To burials within the walls of the 
town he strongly objected, and the experience derived from 
the year of the plague proved the soundness of his judg¬ 
ment. 

The London bank of the Thames was to be lined with a 
broad quay, along which the halls of the City Companies 
were to be built, with suitable warehouses in between for the 


128 Young Folks History of London. 

merchants, to vary the effect of the edifices. The little 
stream whose name survives in Fleet Street was to be 
cleansed, and made serviceable as a canal, one hundred 
and twenty feet wide, running much in the line of the 
present Holborn Viaduct. 

These were the main features of Christopher Wren’s plan, 
and had it been followed London might have been without 
its dark, crooked lanes, and without its smoke. The river 
would have been honored not only with the handsome quay 
it has at length obtained, but with a line of beautiful build¬ 
ings and fair spires-; and, above all, St. Paul’s would have 
had an ample space around it, giving free play to its grand 
proportions. 

The narrow-mindedness of the land-owners, disputes about 
the value of property, and a reluctance to alter the use of 
sites which had been long identified with certain businesses, 
led to the defeat of Wren’s proposal, and the opportunity 
was lost of making London one of the handsomest cities of 
the world. Some changes for the better were made, how¬ 
ever. Brick and stone instead of wood were used in rebuild¬ 
ing the houses; the drainage was improved, and the streets 
were widened. 

Several blessings, indeed, resulted from the disaster. Lon¬ 
don had often been stricken by the plague, which had proved 
so fatal in 1665, but that disease never reappeared after 
the fire, which, no doubt, destroyed the germs that hung 
about the old tenements and dark alleys. Wren, moreover, 
had some opportunity to adorn the city. He was the archi¬ 
tect of the present St. Paul’s Cathedral, and also built fifty- ■ 
one other churches, several of which remain among the most 
beautiful buildings which London has. 

How the fire originated is a mystery; but a lofty monu- I 
ment marks the spot where it began. When it was first 
erected the monument bore an inscription to the effect 




i666. 


Pope s Couplet. 


129 


that the conflagration had been caused by Roman Catholics. 
When James II. came to the throne these words were erased, 
but they were restored and cut in deep characters during the 
time of William III. In the earlier part of the present cen¬ 
tury, however, the inscription was finally removed. It had 
always fostered ill-feelings; and to it Pope alluded in his 
famous couplet: — 

“ Where London’s column, pointing to the skies, 

Like a tall bully, lifts its head and lies.” 





“ London is not a poetical place to look at, but surely it is poetical 
in the very amount and comprehensiveness of its enormous experience 
of pleasure and pain. ... It is one of the great giant representatives 
of mankind, with a huge beating heart, and much of its vice and 
misery.”— Leigh Hunt. 


CHAPTER IX. 


IN THE REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE. 

In the reign of Queen Anne one tenth of the whole popu¬ 
lation of England and Wales was in London, and the second 
town in size was Bristol, which had only one seventeenth as 
many people in it as the former city. Attempts were made 
to limit the growth of this ever-increasing metropolis; but 
people insisted on flocking to it, and its bounds were widened 
every year. 

London still consisted of two parts, the city and Westmin¬ 
ster, which are now united by a continuous line of buildings. 
The city represented the secular interests, and Westminster, 
with its Abbey and Houses of Parliament, the political and 
ecclesiastical interests. The Exchange was the commercial 
centre, and, more than that, had become what it has since 
remained, the centre of the commerce of the world. 

“ There is no place in the town which I so much love to 
frequent as the Royal Exchange,’’ wrote Addison. “ It gives 
me a secret satisfaction, and in some measure gratifies my 
vanity, as I am an Englishman, to see so rich an assembly 
of countrymen and foreigners consulting together upon the 
private business of mankind, and making this metropolis a 
kind of emporium for the whole earth.” 

Englishmen had further cause for satisfaction than in their 
commercial supremacy. The great Duke of Marlborough 
was adding Blenheim and Ramillies to the long roll of British 
victories, while at home literature was being enriched by 


132 Young Folks History of London. 

Addison, Steele, Fielding, Swift, Pope, Congreve, Prior, Gay, 
and a galaxy of other famous writers, whose genius has given 
to this the name of the Augustan Age. 

Some of these were members of the Kit-Kat Club, an 
association of authors and noblemen, which met in a lane 
nearly opposite Child’s Bank in the Strand. 

It was the custom of this aristocratic club to elect some 
reigning beauty as a toast every year, and to write epigram - 
matic verses in her honor, which were etched with a diamond 
on the club glasses. One evening the Duke of Kingston nomi¬ 
nated his little daughter, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, who 
was then only eight years old. 

“ She is prettier than any beauty on the list,” he declared, 
“ and you shall see her.” 

A chaise was instantly sent for her, and presently she was 
ushered in, blushing, and dressed in her best. She was 
elected queen by acclamation. The gentlemen drank her 
health, feasted her with sweetmeats, kissed her, and inscribed 
her name on the glasses. Later in life, when describing this 
experience, Lady Mary wrote : “ Pleasure was too poor a 
word to express my sensations. They amounted to ecstasy. 
Never again throughout my whole life did I pass so happy an 
evening.” 

One of the members of the club was Dr. Garth, who was 
reproved by Steele one night for remaining when his patients 
were pining for him. 

“ I have only fifteen calls to make,” he said, “ and a delay 
will not matter. Nine of the patients have such bad consti¬ 
tutions that all the physic in the world could not save them ; 
and the other six have such good constitutions that all the 
physicians in the world could not kill them.” 

Addison and the other wits of the time were frequenters of 
Will’s coffee-house on the north side of Russell Street at the 
corner of Bow, where Dryden had formerly sat in arbitration 



V i' ' • 




Xtltvl > Imr ■', 


y /*' 3| 


*§ 


QUEEN ANNE 








































1702-1714- 


Will's Coffee-House . 


135 


on the merits of new poems and plays. Chance visitors 
were not much encouraged at such coffee-houses as Will’s, 
and a man had to be of some note to be welcome. The 
coffee-house was used like a club of our own day, as a place 
where two friends could meet quietly and discuss a subject, — 
religious, political, or literary. 

After the death of Dry den Will’s lost its attractiveness, and 
Addison transferred his custom to a neighboring house, which 
one of his servants named Button had opened, where he 
could be seen nearly every day, usually accompanied by 
Richard Steele, and where many numbers of the “ Specta¬ 
tor ” and the “ Tatler ” were written. Pope, Swift, Davenant, 
and Dr. Arbuthnot were also frequenters of this coffee-house. 
While Swift was yet a stranger to the other patrons of the 
place, they called him the Mad Parson. He knew no one 
and no one knew him. He would lay his hat on a table, and 
walk up and down at a brisk pace for half an hour without 
speaking to any one. Then he would snatch up his hat, pay 
his money at the bar, and walk off without having opened 
his lips. 

Though in wealth and population London was already the 
first city of the world, it had few of the public conveniences 
of modern life. * The drainage was poor, the lighting was 
insufficient, and the pavements were never in order. Even 
until the time of George III. peaceable citizens had no 
adequate protection from thieves and rowdies. The streets 
were infested by a number of young men who called themselves 
Mohocks, and who amused themselves by assaulting watch¬ 
men and rolling women in tubs. Those persons who could 
afford it were usually attended by a body-guard of servants; 
and at night it was never safe to go forth unarmed. The 
attempts made in 1763 to organize something like a police 
force are recorded by the chroniclers of the day with an air 
of importance which shows how much protection was needed. 


136 Young Folks' History of London. 

The streets, indeed, were used by individuals without any 
regard to the general convenience. Football was played in 
the most populous of them, and there was a Maypole in the 
Strand until 1713. The middle of them was usually occu¬ 
pied by open drains, and posts constituted the only distinc¬ 
tion between the foot-way and the carriage-way. The space 
within the posts was sometimes so narrow that only one per¬ 
son could pass at a time, and hence those contests for the 
wall to which we have already alluded. Dr. Johnson de¬ 
scribes how these quarrels were common when he first 
came to London, and how, at length, things were better 
ordered. 

In wet and gusty weather the unhappy walker heard the 
crazy signs swinging over his head. The spouts of every 
house were streaming at his feet, or drenching his laced hat 
and powdered wig with unpitying torrents. At every step 
some projection was in his way; chimney-sweeps and coal- 
heavers jostled against him, and the bearers of the sedan 
chairs, in which ladies and gentlemen were carried to and 
fro, crowded him into the gutter. These were not days for 
pedestrians. Great holes gaped in the pavement, and open 
vaults were unprotected by any fence. 

Writing upon the city, and,referring to the narrowness of 
the streets, Davenant inquired : “ Is your climate so hot 
that as you walk you need umbrellas of tiles to intercept the 
sun? or are your shambles so empty that you are afraid to 
take in fresh air lest it sharpen your stomachs? . . . The 
garrets are so made that opposite neighbors may shake 
hands without stirring from home.” 

Looking at the London of to-day, with its well-swept 
streets and smooth pavements, its millions of lights, its civil 
policemen, its thousands of cabs and omnibuses, and the 
wonderful apparatus by which it is fed and relieved of its 
refuse, it is hard to imagine how dirty and unimproved it 





,ADY MARY MONTAGU AT THE KIT-KAT CLUB. 











































1702-1714- 


Slovenliness of the City . 


139 


was scarcely more than a century ago. The reader will be 
interested in learning how it was transformed from its 
former slovenliness to its present condition; but before 
describing this we will give a brief account of the “No 
Popery ” riots which occurred in the reign of George III. 


“ I have often amused myself with thinking how different a place 
London is to different people. They whose narrow minds are con¬ 
tracted to the consideration of some one particular pursu't view it 
only through that medium. A politician thinks of it merely as the 
seat of government in its different departments; a grazier, as a vast 
market for cattle ; a mercantile man, as a place where a prodigious 
deal of business is done upon ’Change; a dramatic enthusiast, as the 
grand scene of theatrical entertainments; a man of pleasure, as an 
assemblage of taverns, and the great emporium for ladies of easy vir¬ 
tue ; but the intellectual man is struck with it as comprehending the 
whole of human life in all its variety, the contemplation of which is 
inexhaustible.” — Boswell. 



CHAPTER X. 


THE GORDON RIOTS. 

An intense hatred of the Roman 
Catholics existed in London, and 
the most severe laws were enacted 
against them, forbidding them to 
educate their children except in 
Protestant schools, and prevent¬ 
ing them from inheriting property 
and purchasing land. A few per¬ 
sons of intelligence, including Sir 
George Saville, recognized the in¬ 
justice of these laws, however, and 
in 1778, through their efforts, some 
of the harshest clauses were repealed. 

Now, a hundred years ago most of the people read very 
little; but they talked among themselves a great deal. 
Stories of the persecution of Protestants when the Roman 
Catholics were in power had been handed down from father 
to son for many generations, and even dull minds were excited 
by apprehensions of the evils which would come, should the 
Roman Catholics be emancipated. The lower classes, espe¬ 
cially, were enraged at the passing of Sir George Saville’s 
bill, and denounced it in the bitterest terms. 

Meetings were held, at which, no doubt, the speakers fanned 
each other’s fury, and angry pamphlets were circulated all 
over the country. Meanwhile there was a member of Parlia- 













142 Young Folks History of London. 

ment, Lord George Gordon, who was a mixture of the fanatic, 
the demagogue, and the fool. He was a brother of the Duke 
of Gordon, and doubtless had all the advantages of education 
becoming his station. 

Lord George had long been noted for his eccentric dress 
and strange behavior, though up to this period he had 
been considered only a harmless oddity. At an early age he 
entered the navy, but had left it in consequence of discontent, 
and an altercation about his promotion. After obtaining a 
seat in Parliament he distinguished himself by attacking all 
classes of politicians, sometimes, it must be owned, with a 
sort of cleverness; and after a time the saying got about that 
there were three parties in the House, namely, the Ministers, 
the Opposition, and Lord George. 

This was the man who denounced Sir George Saville’s bill 
of relief in the most violent and unreasonable manner. He 
soon became the idol of the uneducated people, and a society 
was formed called the Protestant Association, with him as 
president, to which so many persons subscribed that there 
was no lack of money to print pamphlets, and get up peti¬ 
tions asking for the repeal of the bill. 

Probably because George III. would give him no hope of 
assistance, he insinuated that the king was at heart a papist, 
and declared in Parliament that the mass of the Scotch nation 
were of that opinion. He talked of coming down to the 
House with a hundred and fifty thousand men at his back; 
and in the spring of 1780 he conceived the idea of a peti¬ 
tion, the signatures to which should make it long enough to 
reach from the Speaker’s chair to Whitehall. 

At a meeting of the Protestant Association he announced 
his intention of presenting this petition on the 2d of June, 
with the members of the Association and their friends in pro¬ 
cession. Every one was to wear a blue cockade in his hat to 
distinguish him, and all were to meet in St. George’s Fields. 



THE GORDON RIOTS, 























































































































































1780. 


The Rioters Petition. 


145 


When the day arrived, not less than sixty thousand men 
assembled at the spot appointed. They began to gather by 
ten o’clock in the morning, and marshalled themselves in 
ranks, waiting for their leader. “ About eleven o’clock,” 
says the “ Annual Register,” “ Lord George arrived, and 
gave directions in what manner he would have them pro¬ 
ceed ; and about twelve one party was ordered to go round 
over London Bridge, another over Blackfriars, and a third 
to follow him over Westminster.” The petition was borne 
before them, on the head of a tall man. They proceeded 
with perfect decorum, six abreast, and the multitude re¬ 
united before the Houses of Parliament about half-past two 
o’clock, raising a great shout. 

They had been joined, however, by many vagabonds 
and pickpockets, and a number of heedless youths who 
were only alive to the prospect of noisy excitement. It 
very soon became apparent that this unruly section was get¬ 
ting the upper hand. Not content with flaunting their own 
'blue cockades and shouting “No Popery,” they waylaid 
members of Parliament, and insisted on their also wearing 
the cockades, and joining in the party cry. 

The mob took possession of the avenues leading to the 
Houses of Parliament, and twice attempted to force the 
doors. As the members approached they were attacked, 
and some of them narrowly escaped with their lives. We 
can fancy what a scene must have presented itself inside the 
Houses when the members, with disordered hair and torn 
clothes, and in many instances wounds, at last obtained an 
entrance. All were angry and excited, and all clamored for 
action, though no one seemed to know clearly what action to 
take. Several attempted to speak at the same time, and little 
could be distinctly understood, as the hooting and shouting 
outside were deafening. 

Meanwhile Lord George Gordon added fuel to the fire 


10 


146 Young Folks History of London. 



by coming several times to the top of the gallery stairs and 
addressing the people, telling them ot the treatment theii 
petition was likely to meet with. He mentioned several mem¬ 
bers who were opposed to it, and said that there was some 
talk of postponing the petition until the following luesday, 
but that, for his own part, he did not like delays, as Parlia¬ 
ment might be prorogued by that time. Afterwards, he made 

a still more inflammatory 



SANDALS. 


speech, encouraging the 
idea that the king, dis¬ 
mayed by the numbers 
who were assembled, 
would himself interfere 
on their behalf. 

General Conway and 
several other members 
warned him in strong lan¬ 
guage of the mischief he 
was doing by such ha¬ 
rangues, and Colonel Cor¬ 
don, a near relation, went 


up to him and said, “ My Lord George, do you intend to 
bring your rascally adherents into the House of Commons? 
If you do, the first man of them that enters, I will plunge 
my sword, not into his, but into your, body.” 

While Lord George was making his second speech another 
of his relations, General Grant, came behind him and en¬ 
deavored to draw him away, entreating him not to lead this 
mass of people into danger. But his words did more harm 
than good ; for Lord Creorge, instead of answering him, pro¬ 
ceeded to say, in addressing the mob, “ You see in this effort 
to dissuade me from my duty before your eyes an instance 
of the difficulties I have to encounter from such wise men of 
this world as my honorable friend behind my back.” 





1780. 


Introducing the Petition. 


147 


Alderman Savvbridge and some others now tried to induce 
the people to clear the lobby, — to which they had forced an 
entrance, — but without success ; and matters were so serious 
that soon afterwards some soldiers arrived to enforce order. 
Justice Addington, who appeared at the head of the troops, 
was received with hisses; but on his assuring the people that 
he would order the soldiers away if they would only promise 
to disperse, he gained their good opinion. The cavalry gal¬ 
loped off, and about six hundred of the petitioners departed, 
though not till they had given three cheers for the magistrate. 

When order was restored, Lord George introduced his 
petition, declaring it had nearly a hundred and twenty thou¬ 
sand signatures, and he moved that it should be taken into 
immediate consideration; the House divided, and there ap¬ 
peared six for the petition and a hundred and ninety-two 
against it. Soon afterwards the House adjourned, and, as it 
was supposed that the mob had dispersed, the soldiers were 
ordered home. 

But though order was restored in Westminster, the rioters 
were busy elsewhere, and had burned two Catholic chapels. 
The next day, Saturday, was quiet; but on the afternoon 
of Sunday they again assembled in great force, and stripped 
several chapels of all ornaments, tearing up altars, pews, and 
pulpits to make bonfires of them. They also sacked several 
houses. 

The 4th of June was the king.’s birthday, and falling on a 
Sunday it was observed in the usual manner on the following 
day. George III. was, at that time especially, a much-beloved 
king, and his birthday was always kept as a festival. As was 
usual, he held a drawing-room, and an ode written by the 
Poet Laureate was chanted in his honor. But while the car¬ 
riages and sedan chairs of the nobility were taking them to 
Court, the “ blue cockades ” were busy doing infinite mis¬ 
chief in other parts of the town. They wreaked their ven- 


148 


Young Folks' History of London . 


geance on several tradesmen who had given evidence against 
some of them, by plundering the shops; and a detachment 
of the mob made its way to Leicester Fields to attack the 
house of Sir George Saville, which they stripped before set¬ 
ting fire to the building. 

On the morning of Tuesday, the 6th, both Houses of Par¬ 
liament met. A detachment of foot-guards was placed in 

Westminster Hall; but the 
mob waylaid the Peers and 
Commoners, and insulted 
and maltreated them just 
as they had done on the 
Friday. Mr. Hyde, the 
justice, rode among them 
with the cavalry, hoping 
to disperse them ; but the 
soldiers were so afraid of 
exceeding the law that 
they would not even strike 
with the flat of their 
swords. 

Mr. Hyde paid dearly for his generous and patriotic con¬ 
duct, for the mob raised the cry of “To Hyde’s house, 
ahoy ! ” and proceeding to St. Martin’s Lane, where he lived, 
they speedily wrecked his dwelling. 

I here was great indignation in the House of Commons 
when Lord George appeared wearing the hated blue cockade. 
One member, Colonel Herbert, declared his resolve not to sit 
and vote in the House while the noble lord wore the ensign 
of riot in his hat, and vowed that if his lordship did not re¬ 
move it he would do it lor him. Lord George seemed cowed 
by this threat, for he took the cockade from his hat and put it 
in his pocket. 

The mob was now more dangerous and ungovernable than 



BEARDS. 


Newgate Burned. 


149 


1780. 

ever. The more respectable members of the Protestant 
Association, alarmed at the destruction which had taken 
place, had withdrawn from the scene, and the rioters con¬ 
sisted mainly of pickpockets, burglars, and the vilest dregs 
of the populace. While the House of Commons was sit¬ 
ting they attacked the house of the Prime Minister, Lord 
North, but some soldiers prevented them from destroying 
it. Foiled in this, they marched on to Newgate, vow¬ 
ing they would break open the prison and release their 
fellows who had been imprisoned there since Friday. They 
were armed with crow-bars and pickaxes and heavy sledge¬ 
hammers ; and when the governor refused to give up their 
comrades they attacked his door and flung the furniture out 
of the window, and set fire to his dwelling by throwing fire¬ 
brands and combustibles into it. While it was burning they 
attacked' the strong door of the prison with their tools; and 
finding it did not yield they brought heaps of the governor’s 
furniture, which they piled against the door and ignited. 

From the governor’s house the flames spread to the prison 
chapel, and thence to some passages leading to the wards. 
On perceiving this the mob raised shouts and yells of tri¬ 
umph, which mingled with the cries of the prisoners, some of 
whom were rejoicing in the expectation of release, while 
others were afraid of the fire. The rioters had broken into 
the governor’s cellar, and maddened themselves with wine 
and spirits till their ferocity knew no bounds. 

Many of them had themselves at one time or another 
been prisoners in Newgate, and were well acquainted with its 
interior; and led on by these the crowd made a rush through 
the gaps caused by the fire, and soon found themselves 
masters of the place. Three hundred criminals, four under 
sentence of death, were thus released, not one being left 
behind, and not one perishing in the flames. They joined 
the roaring multitude, and shouted gleefully at seeing the 


150 Young Folks History of London . 

new, strong prison consumed by fire. Newgate prison had 
been lately rebuilt at a vast expense, but by the next morning 
nothing remained of it except the blackened walls. 

After burning Newgate the next proceeding of the mob 
was to break open Clerkenwell prison and release the prison¬ 
ers there. Aided by this reinforcement they attacked the 
houses of two very active magistrates, Mr. Cox and Sir John 
Fielding, and then with increasing fury proceeded to Blooms¬ 
bury Square, where Lord Mansfield resided. Already they 
felt themselves so completely masters of London, that they 
compelled the terrified citizens to illuminate their houses 
and hang out flags and banners with the inscription, “ No 
Popery,” upon them. Even the Jews wrote on their doors, 
“This house is Protestant.” Business was almost entirely 
suspended, shops with few exceptions being closed from 
Tyburn to Whitechapel; and the more courageous people 
armed themselves with whatever weapons they could com¬ 
mand.. Many houses looked like places prepared for a 
siege. 

A friend of Mrs. Newton Crosland, from whose account of 
the riots we have condensed this narrative, tells how two of 
his grandparents were married in London during the week 
of the outbreak. It would have been impossible after leav¬ 
ing the church to pass with safety through the streets in 
the ordinary way; so the wedding party assumed the blue 
cockades instead of white favors, and covered the post chaise 
containing the bridal pair with placards of “No Popery.” 
Thus, in the guise of violent partisans, they escaped into the 
country. 

Lord Mansfield, the Lord Chief Justice of England, was 
one of the ablest and most conscientious men ever raised to 
his exalted position ; and because he had administered the 
law impartially to churchmen and dissenters, to Quakers and 
to Roman Catholics, and especially because he had refused 


1780. 


Timidity of the Magistrates . 


1 5 1 


to convict a priest for exercising the offices of his religion, 
the rioters were bitter against him. 

It was about midnight when, infuriated with spirits and 
beer, they arrived at his house in Bloomsbury Square, which 
was then a fashionable part of London. Of course, a private 
residence could offer but little resistance to the attacks of such 
a multitude ; and the justice, who was seventy-five years of 
age, had barely time to escape with his wife by a back door 
before the mob effected an entrance. The furniture, pictures, 
and books were speedily 
made into bonfires, and 
one of the finest libraries 
in England was thus 
destroyed. When fur¬ 
niture, pictures, wear¬ 
ing-apparel, books, and 
papers were consumed, 
the mob set fire to the 
house, having first bro¬ 
ken into the wine cellar 
and added to their in¬ 
toxication by drinking 
the fine wines they found 
there. 

It is a most surprising 
fact that though a party 
of foot-guards appeared on the scene, they remained inactive ; 
and when a friend of Lord Mansfield’s remonstrated with 
them, they declared that without the orders of a magistrate 
they dared not act, and that the magistrates had all fled from 
the scene in terror ! When at last a magistrate was found, 
and the soldiers were ordered to fire, the work of destruc¬ 
tion was done, and probably the men who were killed and 
wounded were so stupefied with drink that they were hardly 



COSTUMES, TIME OF GEORGE III. 




152 


Young Folks History of London . 


conscious of the retribution. An ignorant and vicious rabble, 
powerful only from their brute strength, were in reality mas¬ 
ters of London for several days, while the class who should 
have controlled them seemed paralyzed by fear. 

On Wednesday, the 7th, the consternation of well-disposed 
people seemed at its height. They barricaded their houses, 
chalked “No Popery” on their doors, and hung out blue 
streamers, blue being the color of the Protestant Associa¬ 
tion. But Protestant zeal had now nothing to do with the 
mob, which was only bent on plunder and destruction. Some 
of the rioters were armed with iron bars which had been the 
railings in front of Lord Mansfield’s house, and they went 
about despoiling the houses tenanted by respectable people, 
or demanding contributions of money from them. One man 
who rode on horseback claimed gold and would take nothing 
less. 

Not satisfied with having destroyed Lord Mansfield’s town 
house, a party of rioters proceeded to his residence near 
Highgate, intending to burn that also, but happily they were 
met by a detachment of cavalry who turned them back. 
They had also intended to sack the Bank of England, but 
found it guarded by infantry, who fired on them, killing and 
wounding a great number. They were, however, apparently 
but little daunted, for they broke open several prisons, in¬ 
cluding the King’s Bench, the Fleet, and the Marshalsea, 
setting the prisoners free. They plundered the toll-houses 
at Blackfriars Bridge, and then burnt them down ; and had so 
systematized their proceedings that they had a list of the 
public buildings which they intended to destroy, the Mansion 
House, the Royal Exchange, and the British Museum being 
among the number. Happily their plans were frustrated with 
regard to these buildings. They even threatened to break 
open the mad-houses and release the miserable and dan¬ 
gerous inmates. 


1780. 


The Military Employed. 


153 


Another dreadful scene had yet to be enacted. Mr. Lang- 
dale, who had a large distillery on Holborn Bridge, was a 
Roman Catholic. The rioters broke open his premises, 
staved in his hogsheads, filled pails and even their hats with 
the liquor, drank deeply of it, and passed it on to the mob 
outside, till the gutters ran with gin, brandy, and pure alcohol. 
Even women and children, as well as men, were seen on their 
knees sucking up the intoxicating fluid. Some of these mis¬ 
erable beings, helpless from drunkenness, perished ; for, as 
usual, the plundered premises were set on fire, and, fed as 
the flames were by the spirit that was spilt, they at once 
sprang up high and spread in many directions. Had the wind 
been stronger the historian would probably have had to 
record another great fire of London. 

It is greatly to the credit of George III. that he showed 
on this occasion much more courage and determination than 
his ministers, who were overcome by timidity. It was the 
prevailing opinion that it was not lawful to attack the mob, 
whatever they might do, until an hour after reading the Riot 
Act. Wedderburn, the Attorney-General, afterwards Lord 
Loughborough, declared, however, that after the reading of 
the Act not a single hour was required for the dispersion 
of the mob, and that in extreme cases not even the reading 
of the Act was necessary if a military force was required to 
prevent the firing of a dwelling-house. 

Encouraged by this high legal decision, the king issued a 
proclamation requiring all householders and their families to 
keep within doors, while the officers suppressed the riot by 
military force. 

This proclamation was speedily followed by the despatch 
of soldiers to various quarters of the town. Now began 
scenes only less horrible than the preceding ones. The 
first body of troops called into operation was the Northum¬ 
berland militia, which had entered London by a forced march 


154 Young Folks History of London. 

that day. They were led against the rioters at Langdale’s 
distillery, where there already had been great loss of life. 
Another party proceeded to Blackfriars Bridge, where num¬ 
bers of the retreating crowd perished by falling from the 
parapet into the river. Other troops marched off elsewhere 
to restore order, and whenever the mob failed to disperse, the 
word of command was given and they were fired upon. Re¬ 
membering how narrow most of the London streets then were, 
it is easy for us to understand that many of the crowd might 
have been eager to escape and yet unable to do so. But, on 
the other hand, time had been allowed for well-disposed per¬ 
sons to get home, and those who failed to obey suffered the 
consequences. It must indeed have been horrible for quiet 
citizens who had obeyed the proclamation to remain in their 
closed houses, with shutters barred, listening to the tramp 
of soldiers, the hooting of the crowd, and the firing of mus¬ 
kets with military precision, followed by the shrieks of the 
wounded. But the five days of terror through which they 
had passed must have made them deeply thankful that the 
Government was defending them at last, and in many in¬ 
stances bodies of civilians armed themselves and went forth 
to assist the troops. 

Not less than twenty-five thousand soldiers were assem¬ 
bled in London and the suburbs, all ready to act as occasion 
might require ; and this display of force, together with the 
exertions of the civic authorities, now thoroughly aroused, so 
quelled the turbulent throng that by night the town was per¬ 
fectly quiet. The streets indeed seemed even more still than 
usual, for, wearied with the recent excitement, people were 
thankful to rest. In many places blood ran in the gutters, 
and it was computed that two hundred men were shot in the 
streets, while two hundred and fifty were carried to the hos¬ 
pitals seriously wounded, of whom subsequently nearly a 
hundred died. Many more who were only slightly injured 
managed to escape. 




GEORGE III 
























































































1780-1788. 


Acquittal of Lord George. 


157 


On the next morning, Thursday, the 8th of June, it has 
been said “ the city looked in places as if it had been sacked 
by an invading army.” Firemen were busy among the smok¬ 
ing ruins of prisons and other buildings trying to extinguish 
the still smouldering remains; while men and women — the 
latter often with children in their arms — were lying about on 
doorsteps sleeping off the fumes of the previous day’s drunken¬ 
ness. Troops were stationed in the parks, at the Royal Ex¬ 
change, and some other important places, but most of the 
shops still continued closed, and no public business was 
transacted except at the Bank of England. 

On the morning of Friday, the 9th, the law courts resumed 
their sittings, and shops once more were generally opened. 
On this day Lord George Gordon, the author of all the dis¬ 
asters, was committed to the Tower on a secretary of state’s 
warrant. His trial took place Feb. 5, 1781. He was ar¬ 
raigned for high treason,'and was defended with great elo¬ 
quence by Mr., afterwards Lord, Erskine. The presiding 
judge was William, Earl of Mansfield, who had been so 
wronged by the rioters. 

But it was in keeping with Lord Mansfield’s greatness of 
character that he allowed no personal enmity to appear on 
this memorable occasion. On the contrary, in his charge to 
the jury he dwelt so forcibly on all the points of law that were 
in the prisoner’s favor, and summed up the evidence so clearly, 
that the jury after half an hour’s deliberation pronounced the 
prisoner “ not guilty.” 

This verdict disappointed many of those people who were 
still smarting under the remembrance of all they had suffered 
during- the riots. But though Lord George was morally re¬ 
sponsible, he was not so legally. 

As years passed on the eccentricities of Lord George 
Gordon increased. In 1788 he was tried and found guilty 
of libelling the Queen of France, the French ambassador, 



158 Young Folks History of London. 

and tlie English law and crown officers. On this occasion 
he withdrew to Holland, but the magistrates of Amsterdam 
sent him back to England. He was committed to Newgate 
in accordance with the sentence pronounced on him for 
libel, and there spent the rest of his life. He died of fever, 
Nov. 1, 1793. 

Nearly one half of the rioters arrested were found guilty, 
and of those thus convicted twenty-one were executed, the 
remainder being transported for life. 

In “ Barnaby Rudge” Dickens carries several of his charac¬ 
ters through the insurrection ; and, though they are fictitious, 
the scenes are historically accurate. From Chapter LXIII. 
to Chapter LXVIII'. the superb dramatic powers of the great 
novelist are exercised in a sustained description which is 
unsurpassed; witness, for instance, his account of the last 
night of the riots : — 

“ All night no one had essayed to quench the flames or 
stop their progress ; but now a body of soldiers were actively 
engaged in pulling down two old wooden houses, which were 
every moment in danger of taking fire, and which could 
scarcely fail, if they were left to burn, to extend the confla¬ 
gration immensely. The tumbling down of nodding walls and 
heavy blocks of wood, the hooting and the execrations of the 
crowd, the distant firing of other military detachments, the 
distracted looks and cries of those whose habitations were in 
danger, the hurrying to and fro of frightened people with 
their goods; the reflections, in every quarter of the sky, of 
deep red, soaring flames, as though the last day had come, 
and the whole universe were burning; the dust, and smoke, 
and drift of fiery particles, scorching and kindling all it fell 
upon ; the hot unwholesome vapor, the blight on everything; 
the stars and moon and very sky obliterated, — made up such 
a sum of dreariness and ruin, that it seemed as if the face of 


i/86. 


A Vivid Picture. 


1 59 


Heaven were blotted out, and night, in its rest and quiet, 
and softened light, never could look upon the earth again. 

• 

d he gutters of the street, and every crack and fissure in 
the stones, ran with scorching spirit, which, being dammed 
up by busy hands, overflowed the road and pavement, and 
formed a great pool in which the people dropped down dead 
by dozens. I hey lay in heaps all round this fearful pond, 
husbands and wives, fathers and sons, mothers and daugh¬ 
ters, women with children in their arms and babies at their 
breasts, and drank until they died. While some stooped with 
their lips to the brink, and never raised their heads again, 
others sprang up from their fiery draught, and danced, half 
in a mad triumph, and half in the agony of suffocation, until 
they fell, and steeped their corpses in the liquor that had 
killed them. Nor was even this the worst or most appall¬ 
ing kind of death that happened on this fatal night. 

“ From the burning cellars, where they drank out of hats, 
pails, buckets, tubs, and shoes, some men were drawn, alive, 
but all alight from head to foot; who, in their unendurable 
anguish and suffering, making for anything that had the look 
of water, rolled, hissing, in this hideous lake, and splashed up 
liquid fire which lapped in all it met with as it ran along the 
surface, and neither spared the living nor the dead. 

“ On this last night of the great riots — for the last night 
it was — the wretched victims of a senseless outcry became 
themselves the dust and ashes of the flames they had kin¬ 
dled, and strewed the public streets of London.” 


In London I never know what to be at, 

Enraptured with this, and enchanted with that; 

I am wild with the sweets of Variety’s plan, 

And life seems a blessing too happy for man. 

• ••••• 

In the town if it rains, why it bars not our hope ; 

The eye has its range, and the fancy its scope ; 

Still the same, though it pour all night and all clay, 

It spoils not our prospects, it stops not one way. 
••••*• 

In London if folks ill together are put, 

A beau may be dropped or a quiz may be cut; 

We change without end, and if happy or ill, 

Our wants are at hand, our wishes at will. 

• . 

Then in town let me live, and in town let me die, 

For I own I can’t relish the country, not I; 

If I must have a villa in summer to dwell, 

Oh, give me the sweet shady side of Pall Mall. 

Captain Morris. 




CHAPTER XI. 


IMPROVED LONDON. 

We have pictured London as it was in the last century, 
when thieves and blackguards had peaceable citizens at their 
mercy, and when the provisions for keeping the city clean 
were little better than in the Middle Ages. The slums of 
Whitechapel are in better order now, and safer to the pedes¬ 
trian, than Fleet Street and the Strand were then. But Lon¬ 
don, unlike Paris, had no Haussmann suddenly to transform 
it from an ancient city to a modern one. The changes 
made in it were gradual. 

One of the first steps towards an improvement was the 
establishment of a more efficient police force. Formerly the 
guardians of the peace were old and sleepy men, who had not 
strength enough, even when they had courage, to quell dis¬ 
order, and who were glad when the ill-doers left them to doze 
in the sentry boxes which were provided for their shelter. In¬ 
deed, their age and feebleness were looked upon as a qualifi¬ 
cation for their posts. The young “ bucks ” of the Regency 
were especially the tormentors of these poor old men, who 
were called Charlies, because the law under which they were 
appointed dated to the time of Charles I. To “ box a Char¬ 
lie ” was considered fine sport. If he was found dozing 
between the hours when he went his rounds, his box was 
upset, with him inside of it, and he was left to kick and strug¬ 
gle, like a turtle on its back, until help arrived. Another 
trick was to offer him a dram which had been drugged, and, 


ii 




162 Young Folks History of London . 

when the liquor had stupefied him, to cart him with his box 
into a quarter of the town far distant from his post. Practi¬ 
cally, the watchmen were of no use, except to cry the hour of 
the night and the state of the weather to wakeful citizens. 

In 1829 Sir Robert Peel abolished the “Charlies” and es¬ 
tablished the present force of uniformed policemen, who num¬ 
ber over eleven thousand, and have jurisdiction over the whole 
of the county of Middlesex, and parts of the adjacent counties 
of Hertford, Essex, and Kent. A nickname is given to them, 
as to the watchmen who preceded them, and they are known 
as Bobbies or Peelers, both names being derived from those 
of the great statesman who established the force. 

Another great improvement was the abolition of cesspools 
in 1847, an d the drainage of the houses through sewers. The 
sewage is now conducted to Crossness, fourteen miles below 
London Bridge, and is ultimately discharged into the German 
Ocean. 

In its water supply, London had been more fortunate, 
previous to the time of which we are speaking, than in its 
police and drainage. In olden times the citizens were pro¬ 
vided by the streams which flowed through their streets, one 
of the largest being that which gave Fleet Street its name. 
As the city grew, it was impossible to keep these streams 
clean, and water was then conveyed from the surrounding 
country by conduits. On great occasions wine instead of 
water was turned into the conduits for the free use of the 
citizens, and this was the case when unfortunate Anne Boleyn 
was crowned after her marriage with Henry VIII. 

The conduits were an improvement on the open streams, 
but they were an obstruction to traffic in the streets, and all 
the water. from them had to be carried into the houses. 
There were no pipes in the houses, such as we consider 
indispensable. But in 1582 a Dutchman, named Peter 
Morris, introduced a plan for supplying the houses with water 





PETTICOAT LANE 



















































































































































































































































1594 - 


Hugh Middleton. 


165 


by mechanical power. He obtained a lease for the use of the 
Thames water and two arches of London Bridge, where he 
built a /order, by which a supply could be sent a short 
distance. His apparatus was inadequate, however, and relief 
came in 1594, when a goldsmith named Hugh Middleton 
appeared upon the scene. Even if Morris’s invention had been 
capable of distributing all the water that was wanted, it could 
not have been a success, for the supply could not have been 
pure as long as it depended on 'the Thames. Middleton 
took up a plan which others refused to adopt because it was 
costly. Spending the whole of a large private fortune in the 
undertaking, he went to the green hills and dales far beyond 
London, and, tapping the sweetest springs, brought their waters 
to the city through an artificial river, twenty-one miles long. 
Engineers had not the machinery then which is at their com¬ 
mand now, and the tunnelling of the St. Gothard Pass was 
not, relatively speaking, a more imposing work than the cut¬ 
ting of this channel from Hertfordshire to London. Middle¬ 
ton’s fortune was all spent before his great work was complete, 
and he applied in vain to his fellow-citizens for help. The 
means were furnished by James I., who, in return for his 
advances, received half the shares, of which there were 
seventy-two, each being now valued at $85,000. Though the 
undertaking had few friends in the beginning, it thus has 
proved not only an incalculable boon to the inhabitants, but 
also an immensely profitable investment. 

For many years the New River was ample, and it is still 
utilized for the north eastern region and that limited part of 
London which claims the exclusive designation of the “ city 
but, in addition to it, seven other sources are now required to 
supply the modern metropolis. There are about seven hun¬ 
dred miles of water-mains, and the average daily consumption 
is about one hundred and twenty million gallons, or nearly 
thirty gallons for each person. What other city in the world, 


166 Voting Folks Ffistory of London. 

it has been asked, has provided for the comfort of its in¬ 
habitants so abundantly? 

We have already mentioned how Edward Heming lighted 
some of the streets with lanterns in the time of Charles II., 
and how a few foolish persons laughed at his project. The 
proposition to use gas for the same purpose was also derided. 
Sir Humphry Davy said that it would be as easy to bring 
down a piece of the moon for the illumination of London 
as to light the streets with gas. The philosopher was mis¬ 
taken, and yet he was supported by even as clever men 
as James Watt, the inventor of the steam-engine. He sug¬ 
gested that the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral could be used 
as a gasometer. Nevertheless, in 1803-4 a German named 
Winsor proved that gas was feasible for an illuminant, and first 
used it in the Lyceum Theatre, after which it was gradually 
adopted throughout the metropolis. But, like so many 
pioneers in great works, Winsor was ruined by the oppo¬ 
sition which he met. As Macaulay says of Heming’s lanterns, 
“ The cause of darkness was not undefended. There were 
fools in that age who opposed the introduction of what was 
called the ‘ new light ’ as strenuously as fools in our own age 
have opposed the introduction of vaccination and railroads, 
and as strenuously as the fools of an age anterior to the dawn 
of history doubtless opposed the introduction of the plough 
and of alphabetical writing.” 

Dr. Johnson, who had violent prejudices against many other 
tilings, is said to have predicted the lighting of London by gas. 
One evening, from the window of his house in Bolt Court, he 
observed the parish lamp-lighter* ascend a ladder to light 
one of the public lanterns. The man had scarcely half way 
descended when the flame expired. Quickly returning, 
he lifted the cover partially, and thrust the end of his torch 
beneath it: the flame was instantly communicated to the wick 
by the vapor, which suddenly ignited. “ Ah,” exclaimed the 



INDIA OFFICE FROM ST. JAMES’S PARK 







































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































i5 6 4- . Introduction of Carriages. 169 

doctor, “ one of these days the streets of London will be 
lighted with smoke ! ” 

We have now seen how Sir Hugh Middleton saved the 
housewife the trouble of going with her bucket to the nearest 
stream when she wanted water, and provided her with an 
inexhaustible flow in her own kitchen ; how the refuse of the 
thousands of houses is swiftly carried off, instead of being 
allowed to breed disease by accumulation; how lurking 
thieves and hidden pitfalls were defeated by the glimmer 
of lamps, which have increased in number, until now, when 
London is seen from an eminence on a clear night, it seems 
like a garden sown with yellow flowers : and how the feeble 
old Dogberrys of the past have been supplanted by wide¬ 
awake and brawny policemen, who keep the rogues well 
under hand. We have yet to speak of the introduction of 
the means provided for “getting about.” 

In olden times there were no public conveyances. The 
better class of citizens rode to church, or to make calls, on 
horses, and at a later period they had their own carriages. 
On great occasions there were often as many people in the 
saddle as on foot, and the equestrian display was a fine one, no 
less than six thousand horsemen, for instance, having attended 
the coronation of Henry IV. The chroniclers have painted 
such celebrations for us in vivid colors. 1 hey show us the 
entry into London of the conqueror of Agincourt, and the at¬ 
tendant splendors, — the flowing conduits, the artificial trees 
and flowers, the maidens playing music, the wooden houses 
draped with gay tapestries, and the inmates sitting in their 
costly dresses on the balconies. These magnificent eques¬ 
trian spectacles were familiar to the citizens from the earliest 
times. 

It is not easy to think of London, whose murmur can now 
be heard miles away, without the sound of other wheels than 
those of the cart dragging through the ruts with its load of 


170 Young Folks History of London . 

firewood or beer or wool. But the city had no coaches until 
late in the reign of Elizabeth; and they can scarcely be said 
to have come into general use until the reign of James. 

Their use is noticed by Stow as follows : “ In the year 
1564 Guilliam Boonen, a Dutchman, became the queen’s 
coachman, and was the first that brought the use of coaches 
into England. After a while, divers great ladies, with as 
great jealousy of the queen’s displeasure, made them coaches, 
and rid up and down the countries in them, to the great ad¬ 
miration of all the beholders ; but then by little and little they 
grew usual among the nobility and others of sort, and in 
twenty years became a great trade of coach-making.” 

The new vehicles increased in number despite the condi¬ 
tion of the roads. One writer says : “ It is a most uneasy 
kind of passage, in coaches on the paved streets of London, 
wherein men and women are so tost, tumbled, jumbled, and 
rumbled.” The drivers of carts took a malicious pleasure in 
obstructing the coaches, moreover, and it was said that six 
nobles often had to give precedence to six barrels of beer. 

In 1634 a stand of hackney coaches was provided for the 
use of any persons who wished to hire them, and the fact 
was thus recorded : “ I cannot omit to mention any new 
thing that comes up among us, though never so trivial. Here 
is one Captain Baily; he hath been a sea captain, but now 
lives on the land, about this city, where he tries experiments. 
He hath erected, according to his ability, some four hackney 
coaches, put his men in livery, and appointed them to stand 
at the Maypole in the Strand, giving them instructions at 
what rate to carry men into several parts of the town, where 
all day they may be had. Other hackney men seeing this 
way, they flocked to the same place, and perform their jour¬ 
neys at the same rate. So that sometimes there is twenty of 
them together, which disperse up and down, that they and 
others are to be had everywhere, as watermen are to be had 


1883 Improved Conveyances. iyi 

by the waterside. Everybody is much pleased with it; for, 
whereas before coaches could not be had but at great rates, 
now a man may have one much cheaper.” 

There was some opposition between the coaches and the 
sedan chairs, and for a long time the superiority of one over 
the other was a matter of dispute. 

The river, winding through the city, was as great a high¬ 
way as any street; and, especially between London and West¬ 
minster, innumerable row-boats passed to and fro, conveying 
passengers either on pleasure or business. 

The row-boats are superseded now by a fleet of steamers, 
which call at many landings on both sides of the river, and 
convey passengers for less than one cent a mile; while the 
hackney coaches and sedan chairs are substituted by over 
three thousand cabs, twelve hundred omnibuses, a large 
number of street-cars, and the trains of the Underground 
Railway. 

The charge of the cabs is twenty-five cents for two miles or 
less, and half as much again for each additional mile. The 
great number of them, and the frequency with which all 
classes use them day and night, is one of the features of the 
London streets. But more convenient to people travelling 
east and west than all other conveyances are the trains of • 
the Underground Railway. 

To a thoughtful person, the crowded surface of London is 

* * • • 

always impressive. Everything seems to be in motion, the 
whole population to be in the streets, and each individual in 
a hurry. One is thrilled by the activity, — the surges of 
human life that roll noisily through the streets, “ from eter¬ 
nity onward to eternity.” Yet here and there we come 
upon a grating within some railings, and an upward rush 
of steam and a rumble from below shows us that, crowded 
as the surface is with its thousands of cabs and omnibuses, 
there is a lower level, upon which another part of the im- 



172 Young Folks History of London. 

mense population is travelling by a conveyance more rapid 
than either cabs or omnibuses, — under houses, and under 
a vast gridiron of sewers, water pipes, gas pipes, pneumatic 
tubes, and subterranean telegraph wires. Here and there we 
see one of the stations, and, descending far below the level 
of the street, we reach an atmosphere of smoke and steam in 
a great underground vault, with trains rapidly passing through 
it in both directions. At both ends of the vault is a tunnel 
with a few lights glimmering in it. A bell tinkles, and a lamp 
appears in the distance ; then, out of the tunnel comes a train ; 
passengers alight quickly, and as quickly embark, and the 
train vanishes into the continuation of the tunnel. 

The vault is an underground station, and similar ones may 
be found about three quarters of a mile apart, all along the 
line. 

Let us enter that at the Mansion House, which is near the 
Royal Exchange and the Bank of England, — at the very 
core of mercantile London. After buying our tickets, we 
board a train going west. All the cars are lighted with gas, 
and it is necessary that they should be, as the tunnel itself is 
dark. The motion of the train is easy, but the atmosphere is 
damp and smoky; a gentle oscillation is all that tells us we 
are moving. Almost before we have settled ourselves in our 
seats we re-enter the twilight in the station at Blackfriars, 
nearly a mile from where we started; and the historic name 
draws a varied procession out of our memories. At Black¬ 
friars was the monastery which gave the place its name ; and 
there, too, was the theatre of which Shakespeare was an 
owner, and at which some of his plays were first produced. 
St. Paul’s Cathedral, Newgate Prison, St. Bartholomew’s Hos¬ 
pital, the Charterhouse, and Ludgate Hill are all within 
easy distance, and not a stone’s-throw from the station is the 
office of the London “ Times,” the source of a power only 
inferior to that of the legislative palace at Westminster. 



A RAINY PAY IN OLD LONDON 























































































































1883. 


The Underground Railway. 


175 


But in much less time than we can write the names of 
these places, the train is off again, and the station lights are 
vanished. Perhaps three minutes are spent, and then there is 
a stop at which the conductor, or guard, as he is designated in 
England, calls “ Temple ! Temple ! ”— another name which 
conjures up visions of many periods of English history, for 
here, indeed, is the sanctuary from which the Knights Templar 
went to the Crusades. Since then it has been the ancestral 
home of lawyers and authors, and associated with it is a long 
roll of illustrious names : Beaumont, Cowper, Sir Walter Ra¬ 
leigh, Lord Clarendon, Wycherley, Congreve, Edmund Burke, 
Sheridan, Goldsmith, and Thackeray. Temple Bar stood close 
by until 1875, separating the Strand from Fleet Street; and just 
over the heads of the passengers in the train are the lovely 
Temple Gardens, rich with flowers which thrive despite the 
London smoke. 

We are struck by the expedition shown in starting the 
train. The passengers, as well as the officials, seem anxious 
that there shall be as little delay as possible, and those about 
to alight are ready to step out the moment the train comes to 
a standstill, while those who are about to embark quickly take 
their places. The Temple is left behind while we are in the 
middle of our reflections, and in a few seconds more we 
reach Charing Cross. 

“I talked,” says Boswell, “of the cheerfulness of Fleet 
Street, owing to the quick succession of people which we see 
passing through it.” “ Why, sir,” replied Dr. Johnson, 
“ Fleet Street has a very animated appearance, but I think 
the full tide of human existence is at Charing Cross.” 

So it is. Though the Bank is at the core of the mercan¬ 
tile half of the city, Charing Cross is the centre of the rest of 
London. Here the Strand ends, and Pall Mall with its mag¬ 
nificent club-houses is across the way. Here also is Trafal¬ 
gar Square, with Landseer’s lions, the Nelson monument, and 


176 Young Folks History of London . 

the National Gallery, wherein is stored the finest collection of 
pictures in the United Kingdom. 

Again our reveries are interrupted by the starting of the 
train, and in a few seconds more we are at Westminster, the 
site of the famous Abbey, the Houses of Parliament, and 
the Hall which was the palace of the early kings. We have 
touched at so many interesting places, and have looked so 
far back into history, that we seem to have made a long 
journey, but we have only been in the train fifteen minutes. 

The Underground Railway is undoubtedly one of the great¬ 
est conveniences of London. It encircles the metropolis 
and connects with all the main railway stations, except Wa¬ 
terloo. Hosts of objections were raised to it when it was 
first proposed, and it was prophesied that all manner of evils 
would arise from it. It was said, even by engineers, that the 
tunnel would fall in from the mere weight of the traffic in 
the streets above, and that the adjacent houses would be not 
only shaken to their foundations by the engines, but that the 
families in them would be poisoned by the sulphurous exha¬ 
lations of the fuel. After years of opposition, the work was 
begun in i860, and the first section, between Paddington 
and Farringdon Street, was opened on Jan. 10, 1863. So 
great was its success from the very day of its opening, that, 
in the next session of Parliament, there was such an influx 
of bills for the proposed formation of railway lines in con¬ 
nection with it, that nearly one half of the city would have 
been demolished had all the plans been carried out, and 
almost every open space occupied by some terminus with 
its screaming and hissing locomotives. Many of these plans 
were defeated, but every year some extension is made to the 
underground lines, which now reach out as far as Richmond 
and Harrow. 

Suppose that, after alighting from the underground line at 
Westminster, we walk a few steps to the pier of the river 


i 88 3 - The Process of Modernization. 177 

steamers, and take one of them down as far as St. Paul’s 
Wharf. On our way we see Whitehall, Hungerford Bridge, 
Waterloo Bridge, Somerset House, Blackfriars Bridge, the 
Temple, and Wren’s great cathedral. Our fare for this ride 
is one penny, or two cents, and we could go nearly a mile 
further, to London Bridge, without additional expense. Our 
trip on the Underground Railway cost us about six cents ; and 
thus, for a total of eight cents, we have been able to travel 
about six miles. Few cities, indeed, possess such facilities 
for rapid travel as crowded, pushing, struggling London. 

We have said that London has had no Haussmann to untie 
the knots in its ancient thoroughfares and give it an entirely 
new dress, as in the boulevards of Paris. But it has under¬ 
gone many great changes during recent years, and it is still 
in an epoch of transition. Smoked and smoky as it is, 
with its tangled streets and its sombre buildings, which wear 
perpetual mourning, the person visiting it for the first time is 
probably more impressed by the extent to which it has been 
modernized than by its monuments of antiquity. Old Lon¬ 
don has not such a new dress as Paris ; but, though not quite 
a la mode, the dame has many new ribbons fastened to her 
old-fashioned gown. Cheapside is American in its freshness 
of architecture. Scarcely one of the old buildings remains 
upon it, and in their place are brilliant shops with acres of 
plate-glass in their windows ; insurance offices of carved stone 
and polished granite; modern restaurants, with aesthetic 
furniture, mottoes in tiles, and ecclesiastical windows. It is 
like a section of Broadway; and, but for the omnibuses and 
the hansom cabs, one might suppose himself to be in that 
renowned thoroughfare of the New World, instead of in an 
historic street of London, which was the central stage of the 
pageantry of old, and the point where the commerce of Plan- 
tagenet times was concentrated. Even in the Strand and 
Fleet Street, where a few of the houses date back to the time 


12 


178 Young Folks' History of London. 

of the Stuarts, and many of them are little altered from what 
they were in the days of Queen Anne, great showy buildings, 
which look incongruous beside their small-windowed, smoky¬ 
faced neighbors, have begun to appear. Ludgate Hill is new 
from top to bottom, and where Temple Bar stood, with the 
heads of traitors spiked upon it, dividing Fleet Street from 
the Strand, a vast pile of buildings in the Anglo-Norman style 
of architecture, almost as large and as stately as the Capitol at 
Washington, has been erected for the use of the law-courts. 

A complete change has been made along the river-front 
from Blackfriars to Westminster, where a broad belt of mud 
and shallow water has been reclaimed and transformed into 
the Victoria Embankment, a superb drive and promenade, 
with a massive granite balustrade, flourishing trees, well-stocked 
and well-tended gardens, statues, and landings for the small 
steamers plying above London Bridge, below which the larger 
shipping is confined. Cleopatra’s Needle, a companion to 
that in Central Park, stands at the foot of Salisbury Street; 
and among the finer buildings which front on the Embank¬ 
ment are several fashionable hotels, the Temple, Adelphi 
Terrace (a neighborhood of literary clubs and literary lodg¬ 
ings), and St. Stephens Club, where the leading Conserva¬ 
tives meet to pour forth, even over their dinner or supper, 
the ire which the Liberals have excited in them. Close by 
the latter building, the Embankment ends at the Houses of 
Parliament, behind which the towers of Westminster Abbey 
are first visible. 

It is interesting, in passing along this fine promenade, to 
think of the river-front as it was before the Embankment was 
built. At one time, as we have stated in a previous chapter, 
the palaces of the nobility whose names and titles are given 
to the neighboring streets — Essex, Buckingham, Somerset, 
Surrey, Norfolk, York, and Arundel — stood along the Strand, 
with gardens sloping down to the water, where the inmates 



THE OPENING OF THE UNDERGROUND RAILWAY. 































































































































































































































































1883. The Thames Embankments. 181 

could take boats. There is record of a golden day when the 
water of the Thames was so pure that trout lived in it, and 
anglers could be seen fishing on the banks. Nothing of the 
palaces remain, save the beautiful water-gate through which 
the gay company of York House stepped on board the tap¬ 
estried barges which bore them to Westminster or the city. 
Somerset House is only a name given to the present structure 
because the latter occupies the site of the old one. 

After these stately homes disappeared, the river-front seems 
to have fallen into decay, and rookeries shivered in the wind 
along the oozy borders. It was a dark place, where crime 
sought a hiding-place and poverty a shelter. Many a piteous 
sob might have been heard under the dark arches of Water¬ 
loo Bridge. Many a hideous crime remained undetected, 
while its perpetrators concealed themselves in the riverside 
shanties. 

The work of reclamation was begun in February, 1864, and 
the Embankment was opened in July, 1870. The approaches 
to it are insufficient at present; but when these are increased, 
it will become one of the most crowded, as it is now the most 
commodious, of London streets. 

On the Surrey side of the river is another embankment, 
named after the queen’s late husband, Prince Albert, and 
among the buildings abutting on it is one of the largest of 
the many London charities, — St. 1 homas’s Hospital, which 
consists of no less than eight distinct buildings, or pavilions, 
seventeen hundred feet in length, and two hundred and 
fifty feet in depth. It is built of brick, with stone facings, 
and cost nearly $2,500,000. Just opposite to it, on the Mid¬ 
dlesex side of the river, are the Parliament buildings, and 
few views in London are more impressive than that from 
Westminster Bridge, which brings in both the hospital and 
the legislative palace, with the Victoria Embankment reach¬ 
ing from it. 


182 Young Folks History of London. 

Whitehall is one of the neighborhoods where the change 
from old to new is conspicuous. It has been said that the 
triangular space which lies between the new palaces of 
Whitehall and St. James and the old palace at Westminster 
has been the scene of more important events in English his¬ 
tory than all the rest of London. The original palace at 
Whitehall was built by Hubert de Burgh, Earl of Kent, the 
minister of Henry III., and it was rebuilt by Cardinal Wol- 
sey. Here the prelate lived in more than royal magnificence, 
with-a household of eight hundred persons, and entertained 
the king, who took “ great comfort ” from the hospitality with 
which he was received. Afterwards, when Wolsey was in 
disgrace, the king himself took possession of Whitehall. He 
married Anne Boleyn there, and there •“ bluff King Hal ” 
ended his life of crime on Jan. 28, 1546. 

It was also from Whitehall that Queen Mary went forth to 
be crowned, and thence Elizabeth was sent to the Tower on 
a wrongful accusation of complicity in Sir Thomas Wyatt’s 
conspiracy. In her turn, Elizabeth^set out from Whitehall to 
receive the crown, and in her reign the palace was the scene 
of many brilliant masques and tournaments. In the grounds 
Lord Monteagle first told the Earl of Salisbury of the gun¬ 
powder plot, and hither Guy Fawkes was dragged from the 
cellar of the House of Lords into the presence of King 
James I. 

“ What,” said one of the Scottish courtiers, “ did you intend 
to do with so many barrels of gunpowder? ” 

“ I intended, for one thing,” brusquely said the conspira¬ 
tor, “ to blow all Scotchmen back into Scotland.” 

Whitehall attained its greatest splendor in the reign of 
Charles L, when eighty-six tables were set at each meal, the 
king little dreaming that the walls which saw these festivities 
would, at a later period, witness his execution. Oliver Crom¬ 
well was the next tenant, and John Milton occupied a room 


1883. The Government Offices. 183 

as his Latin secretary. The great Protector died in the pal¬ 
ace, and was succeeded in the occupation of it by Richard 
Cromwell. Then came Charles II., with his dissolute com¬ 
panions ; and, at his death, James II. made Whitehall his 
principal residence. In the reign of William III. the palace 
was almost totally destroyed by fire, and all that now remains 
of it is the banqueting hall from which Charles I. passed to 
his execution. 

In place of the Whitehall of old, with its extensive build¬ 
ings and gardens, the features of the neighborhood are the 
government offices. Here is the Treasury building, which 
was designed by Sir Charles Barry, the architect of the 
Houses of Parliament, and the Admiralty Office, from which 
the navy is controlled. Near these is a byway called Down¬ 
ing Street; and, though Downing Street is narrow and not 
one sixteenth of a mile long, the business that takes place in 
it engages the attention of the whole world. On the south 
side, abutting on St. James’s Park, is a fine pile of modern 
Italian buildings, in which are the Home Office, the Foreign 
Office, the Colonial Office, and the East India Office, — each 
the head-quarters of a cabinet minister. Downing Street is. 
indeed, the engine-room from which is controlled the stu¬ 
pendous machinery of the British Empire. 

London possesses many new things, — new parks, new 
streets, new buildings ; and the antiquary from abroad who has 
read its annals may in his first survey of the city be disappointed 
at the extent to which the old landmarks have been obliterated. 
He alights, perhaps, in one of the magnificent depots, and is 
driven through wide streets lighted by the electric light. He 
is lodged in a hotel which is as modern as anything of the 
kind in Chicago or San Francisco. He inquires for one relic 
after another, and is told that it is gone. The site of many 
an historic house is occupied by some pile of modern architec¬ 
ture, and the dingy place of memories altered beyond recogni¬ 
tion by some improvement. 


184 


Young Folks Fhstory of London. 


A neighborhood nearly as large as many American towns 
was pulled down and rebuilt to admit of the Holborn Viaduct. 
The approach to the city from the west by Oxford Street and 
Holborn was formerly inconvenient and unsightly, and on both 
sides of it was a region of slums, including Field Lane, wherein 
was the lair of Bill Sykes, Charlie Bates, and the very “ Artful 
Dodger.” The slums were pulled down, and the ground was 
cleared, as much as $150,000 being paid to one property- 
owner for his land. Then a viaduct, of an ornamental char¬ 
acter, was thrown across the waste, avoiding the hill, which 
formerly stood in the way of the traffic, and replacing the old 
narrow street with a new thoroughfare, fourteen hundred feet 
long and eighty feet wide. On both sides are handsome build¬ 
ings, and in some respects the Viaduct is the finest street in 
London. 

“ The impression left upon the mind after a walk along the 
Viaduct,” says an English writer, “ is that of a wide and level 
thoroughfare raised above the old pavement, and of a spacious 
bridge crossing the busy line of Farringdon Street below. The 
improvement is so grand and yet so simple, and the direction 
taken by the new road is so obviously the easiest and the best, 
that difficulties of construction and engineering details are in a 
manner lost sight of; and it is not until the work concealed from 
the eye is dived into that the true nature of the undertaking 
is understood. To know what has been accomplished, and to 
appreciate it rightly, the observer must leave the upper level, 
and penetrate the interior; to comprehend his subject, he 
must do as all patient beginners do, — commence at the 
foundation. First is appropriated a space for areas and 
vaulted cellars of the houses, and then against these is a sub¬ 
way, in which are the gas, water, and telegraph pipes ; then 
a passage, and below these a vaulted chamber constructed 
with damp-proof courses through its walls, at the bottom of 
which, resting on a concrete bed, is the sewer. . . . The 


1 8S3. 


Suburban Changes. 185 

height of these subways is eleven feet six inches, and their 
width is seven feet. They contain ventilating shafts, which 
are connected with trapped gullies in the roadway above ; 
also, witn the pedestals of the lamp-posts, perforated for the 
purpose, and with flues expressly directed to be left in party 
walls of buildings; all these contrivances being made for 
carrying off the gases that may escape, especially from leak- 
age of the gas-mains. Provision is made for the easy ingress 
of workmen and materials, and the subways are lighted by 
means of gratings, filled with globules of thick glass.” 

In the suburbs, again, we notice how rapidly the town is 
encroaching upon the country. London is not extending its 
area in any one direction, but in all directions. It is not grow¬ 
ing in the north more than in the south, nor in the east more 
than in the west. Year by year, it adds to its vast circum¬ 
ference some belt of fields ; and the annexation is not gradual, 
with straggling buildings and disconnected streets, slowly fill¬ 
ing up, but almost instantaneous. The streets are rapidly 
paved, graded, drained, and lighted, and what is pasturage one 
April becomes an integral part of the city before the follow¬ 
ing December. Many of the quaint old villages, with thatched 
cottages and ancient inns, which stood several miles away 
from the borders of the city a few years ago, are now part 
and parcel of the huge metropolis; and where their hedge¬ 
rows blossomed with hawthorn in June are rows of little 
yellow-brick suburban villas. 

Perhaps the most interesting of the newer parts of London 
is South Kensington, with its modern Queen Anne houses, 
its wide, respectable streets, and the palatial buildings of the 
South Kensington Museum. The latter contains more than 
twenty thousand examples of mediaeval and modern art, 
paintings and statuary, fine workmanship in metals, textile 
fabrics and pottery, engineering and architecture. Connected 
with it, also, are various schools; and it is not too much to 





186 Young Folks History of London. 

say that any one who properly uses the opportunities afforded 
by the South Kensington Museum may acquire a liberal 
education. 

Even in the eastern end of the metropolis, where crime 
- and poverty have long abided, there are gaps in the narrow 
alleys and pestilent courts, — gaps filled up with model tene¬ 
ments, common schools, and various educational institutions. 
Petticoat Lane is still there, in which queer street one may get 
a vivid picture of low life in London : of the peculiar physi¬ 
ognomy of the low Cockney and of some of his habits; of 
the crowded condition of the London rookeries, and espe¬ 
cially of the fierce struggle which goes on for very small 
things. But there are signs of reformation in the East as 
well as of increasing opulence in the West. 

New London covers a very large tract, and to one who 
has read the history of the metropolis and knows its varied 
traditions, the extent of the changes made in the ancient 
city may, as we have said, disappoint him. But, though there 
are many new things in London, there is no lack of old ones 
of deep historical interest and local peculiarity, — old taverns, 
old churches, old palaces, old inns of court, and old houses. 
London is still the living stage of English history ; and though 
the youngest reader of this book should not visit it until he is 
an old man, there is no doubt that he will still find in it more 
to gratify his love of antiquities than in any other city. But 
who can imagine the size it will be, say, twenty years hence ? 
At the census of 1881 it had a population of 4,764,312, and 
thus it contained more than double the number of people in 
Denmark, including Greenland; nearly three times as many 
as Greece ; more than eighteen times the population of Mon¬ 
tenegro ; some thousands more than Portugal, including the 
Azores and Madeira; nearly treble the population of Servia; 
more than double that of Bulgaria; three quarters of a mil- 


Increasing Population. 


1883. 


187 


lion more than in Holland ; and more than Sweden or Norway 
or Switzerland. 

It has increased about one million and a half in the past 
ten years, and, with Cowper, we may indeed speak of it as 

“ Opulent, enlarged, and still 
Increasing London ! ” 




“ A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping, 

Dirty and dusky, but as wide as eye 
Could reach,.with here and there a sail just skipping 
In sight, then lost amidst the forestry 
Of masts ; a wilderness of steeples peeping 
On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy; 

A huge, dun cupola, like a foolscap crown 

On a fool’s head, — and there is London Town ! ” 

Lord Byron. 


CHAPTER XII. 


LONDON BRIDGE. 

We now intend to look in more detail at those features 
which we have not yet spoken of, or to which only a passing 
reference has been made ; and first among these is the famous 
bridge, which is so closely connected with the history of the 
city. 

The Thames winds through London, as our readers know, 
and the metropolis is built on both sides of it, one bank being 
in the county of Middlesex, and the other in the county of 
Surrey. A ferry served in early times to carry passengers 
to and fro, but among the improvements which followed the 
Roman invasion was a bridge. The latter was not built over 
the track of the old ferry, which was at Westminster, but at a 
place about two miles lower down, where the river was nar¬ 
rower. A ferry may have existed here also. There is a 
church called St. Mary Overy at the Surrey end of the pres¬ 
ent bridge, and it is said that Overy is simply a contraction 
of the words “ over the ferry.” According to an old story, 
not only was there a ferry, but also a prosperous ferryman, 
with an only daughter who was very beautiful. Though 
prosperous, lie was covetous and parsimonious ; and one day, 
to save a day’s food, he resolved to feign death, believing that 
his servants, in common decency, would fast till his funeral. 
He therefore laid himself out in a sheet, and placed one 
taper burning at his head, and another at his feet. Instead 
of lamenting at his assumed decease, the servants were over- 



190 Young Folks' History of London. 

joyed. They danced around his body, broke open his larder, 
and feasted on the contents. The ferryman remained quiet 
as long as he could, and then he sprang up from his bier to 
scold and chase the faithless menials from the house. One 
of them, a valorous fellow, took him for the devil, however, 
and brained him on the spot with the butt end of an oar. 

Hearing of the ferryman’s death, a young lover of the 
daughter started out from his home in the country to claim 
her for his bride, her father having hitherto forbidden the 
marriage; but on his way his horse stumbled, and he broke 
his neck. Overcome by her double loss, she retired to a 
cloister for the rest of her life, and gave her property to a re¬ 
ligious house, the priests in which built the first wooden 
bridge across the Thames. 

The value of this legend is small; but there was a bridge in 
1008, and it was destroyed by the Norsemen under King 
Olave, who lashed his ships to the piers, and pulled the latter 
down with the aid of strong cables and an ebbing tide. It 
fell with a great crash, plunging its defenders into the water, 
where many of them were drowned. 

In a few years it was replaced by another bridge, which 
was swept away by a high tide ; and a third bridge, built of 
wood, was burned down in 1136. At last, in 1176, a stone 
bridge was begun; and for over six hundred years it gave 
passage across the Thames. The cost of it was so great that 
a tax was laid on wool to help in paying for it; and hence it 
was said that London Bridge was built on woolsacks. The 
architect of it was a priest named Peter Colechurch; and 
though he superintended the work for nearly thirty years, he 
died three years before it was finished. It had scarcely been 
opened when it was partly destroyed by fire, and some three 
thousand persons who had crowded upon it to see the confla¬ 
gration were caught between two fires by a sudden change 
of the wind, and perished, either by the flames or by drown- 




































































































1700. 


Nonsuch House. 


193 


ing in the river. It was soon repaired, and until the middle 
of the eighteenth century it was the only bridge over the 
Thames. It was so constantly thronged with passengers, and 
it afforded so good an opportunity for displaying wares, that 
tall houses and shops were built upon it. In the centre of 
the bridge a chapel, dedicated to Thomas a Becket, was 
erected; and between the centre and the Surrey end there 
was a drawbridge, flanked by a tower on which the heads 
of persons executed for treason were spiked. Towards the 
close of the sixteenth century the tower was replaced by a 
singular edifice which, from its peculiarity, was called Non¬ 
such House, — a huge wooden building, four stories high, 
with cupolas and turrets at each corner. There were carved 
wooden galleries outside the long lines of transom-casements, 
and the panels between were richly carved and gilded. For 
a long time the building was the wonder of all London, as it 
was fastened together by wooden pegs instead of nails, and 
had been brought from Holland. 

To have a true notion of old London Bridge, says Mrs. 
Newton Crosland, we must think of the lofty houses, with 
their swinging signs rattling in the wind ; of the overhanging 
stories, approaching the opposite ones so nearly that the 
neighbors could chat with each other from their lattices; of 
the droves of oxen and flocks of sheep coming from the coun¬ 
try ; of the wagons and pack horses passing to and fro; of 
the massive carriages of the great folk; of the horsemen 
dashing along; of the tradesmen crying their wares ; and of 
the pedestrians, for whom there was no footpath, anxiously 
picking their way between the vehicles. The ghastly heads, 
left to rot in the rain and wind and sunshine, looked down on 
the procession, and, no doubt, horrified many a child, as it 

was borne along in its nurse’s arms. 

The head of the Scottish hero, William Wallace, and that 
of the Earl of Northumberland, the father of Hotspur, 


194 Young Folks' History of London. 

were exhibited on poles over the bridge ; and later on, in the 
reign of Henry VIII., those of John Fisher, the Bishop of 
Rochester, and Sir Thomas More were spiked in the same 
place. The face of the former remained so ruddy and life¬ 
like, and such crowds collected to see the so-called miracle, 
that the king at last ordered the head to be thrown into the 
river. Months after his death, Sir Thomas More’s head was 
little changed from what it had been in life, and his faithful 
daughter bribed a man to remove it, and drop it into a boat 
in which she was sitting. Heads were spiked on the battle¬ 
ments until the reign of Charles II., and the shocking exhi¬ 
bition was then removed to Temple Bar, upon which it was 
continued until the beginning of the present century. 

The bridge was the scene of many exciting historic scenes. 
Once the citizens assembled upon it to prevent Queen El¬ 
eanor of Provence, the wife of Henry III., from passing along 
the river to Windsor, where she wished to take shelter. She 
was hated by the people because she was opposed to the 
Barons who were striving to obtain Magna Charta; and as 
she and her ladies attempted to pass under the bridge in a 
state barge, they were assailed with mud and stones, and 
driven back to the Tower. 

When Wat Tyler and his army were at Blackheath, Sir 
William Walworth, the mayor, had the drawbridge raised 
and fastened by a great chain of iron; but when the insur¬ 
gents approached, the wardens lowered the bridge and al¬ 
lowed them to cross, being terrified by the vengeance which 
the rebels threatened to take if they were opposed. 

Being the direct entrance to the metropolis from the south¬ 
ern or southeastern coast, foreign princesses who came to be 
English queens, notable visitors from distant lands, and 
sometimes famous captives, all traversed the bridge in more 
01 less state. On London Bridge Henry V. was received in 
triumph after his victory at Agincourt, and seven years later 



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OSBORNE’S LEAP 














































































































































































































Osbornes Leap. 


1559 - 


197 ' 


his dead body was borne along this same highway with fune¬ 
real splendor. 

In 1559 the Lord Mayor of London was Sir William 
Hewet. Hewet lived in a house on the bridge, and had an 
infant daughter named Anne. The current of the Thames 
was then very strong, as there was a fall of several feet un¬ 
derneath the arches. One day a nurse was playing with 
baby Anne at a window overlooking the river, and in a care¬ 
less moment she let her little charge fall. A young appren¬ 
tice named Osborne plunged into the boiling stream after 
her, and with great difficulty saved her, thus earning the 
life-long gratitude of his master, the Lord Mayor. Anne 
grew to be a beautiful woman, and, as her father was very 
wealthy, many noblemen, including earls and baronets, sought 
her hand. But she loved Osborne the best, and to all other 
suitors her father said, “ No ; Osborne won her, and Osborne 
shall have her.” 

Osborne’s great grandson became the first Duke of Leeds. 

Hogarth and other celebrated painters once lived on Lon¬ 
don Bridge. Alexander Pope, the poet, and Jonathan Swift, 
who wrote “ Gulliver’s Travels,” were often to be found at 
the store of a witty bookseller in the Northern Gate. 

The houses were removed between 1757 and 1766, and 
early in the present century it was found that the bridge it¬ 
self could no longer be repaired. The citizens were sorry to 
lose it, but safety as well as convenience required its demoli¬ 
tion. The new bridge, which stands one hundred and eighty 
feet higher up the river than the old one, was begun by the 
distinguished engineer, John Rennie, and completed by his 
son. The foundation stone of it was laid on June 15, 1825, 
and it was opened by William IV. and Queen Adelaide on 
Aug. 1, 1831. 



“ My eye, descending from this hill, surveys 
Where the Thames among the wanton valleys strays. 
Thames, the most loved of all the Ocean’s sons 
By his old sire, to his embraces runs, 

Hastening to pay his tribute to the sea 
Like mortal life to meet eternity.” 


Denham. 





CHAPTER XIII. 


A TRIP ON THE RIVER. 

The poorer classes of London children are not travellers, 
as a rule, and their excursions do not often extend farther 
than a few miles. A trip made on one of the steamers that 
carry passengers a short distance for a penny is considered 
an important and delightful outing, while a whole day’s sail 
is something never to be forgotten. A favorite holiday jour¬ 
ney is to Kew, where the finest botanic gardens in England 
are situated ; and we advise the reader to make this trip 
from London Bridge, as it is a pleasure in itself, and will also 
enable him to see how the children there enjoy themselves. 

The starting-point is at the bridge itself. The Thames 
here is shallow, black, sluggish, and narrow. You can almost 
throw a stone across it, and it is not easy to think of it as the 
great stream about which we have read so much. The largest 
vessels cannot ascend so far, as the water is not deep enough, 
but you can see a forest of masts in the extensive docks lower 
down. The river steamboats are moored at a little pier under 
one side of the bridge. They are small side-wheelers, not 
much larger than the tug-boats of America, and not much 
handsomer. The only accommodations for passengers are a 
few uncovered wooden benches on deck, and a gloomy little 
cabin below. They are built of iron, and painted black. 
In shape — or in model, as a sailor would say — they are 
pretty enough, and they look as though they might be swift; 
but they have no other element of beauty. 




200 Young Folks History of London. 

Comparisons between friends are odious; but we wonder 
what a young Londoner would think, were he to see one of 
our small river-boats on the Thames, — say the “ Sylvan 
Glen,” of the Harlem Line, the “ Pomona,” of the Staten 
Island Line, or the “ Nantasket ” of the Boston Harbor Line. 
Perhaps he might imagine it to be a part of the Lord Mayor’s 
show, a pageant which we have already described. He cer¬ 
tainly would not suppose that a craft of such elegance could 
be intended for the common traffic of a ferry. 

You buy your tickets at an office on the pier, as a warning 
bell hastens you on board. The captain stands on a bridge 
between the paddle-boxes. Underneath there is a small boy, 
with a very old-fashioned face, who seems to be paying dili¬ 
gent attention to nothing in particular. But at a motion of 
the captain’s hand, without lifting his eyes, he drawls out to a 
man on the lower deck, “ Ahead, half-speed ! ” and the pad¬ 
dle-wheels revolve. You expect to see some one boxing his 
ears the next moment for misleading the engineer; but he 
still sits on the grating of the boiler-house, solemnly contem¬ 
plating the knots in the planks. Again the captain raises his 
hand. “ Full spe-e-e-d ! ” the small boy screams, and the 
engine goes faster at his command. By and by you begin to 
understand that he belongs to the boat, and is a substitute for a 
bell, and, in view of the importance of his duties, you cannot 
help admiring the modesty with which he comports himself. 

As the boat shoots under the arches and up the river, the 
bridge comes into view, — the busiest place in all busy Lon¬ 
don. About eight thousand people on foot, and nine hun¬ 
dred vehicles, pass oyer it every hour in the day. The rumble 
of the traffic, as it comes to us on the boat, is like the roll of 
distant thunder. In the background you can see the Tower, 
and Billingsgate, the largest fish-market in the world. The 
dealers and their customers used to be notorious for the use 
of bad language, and the word “ Billingsgate ” is commonly 



PENSIONERS AT GREENWICH 




















































































203 


1883. R iver Traffle. 

accepted in writing and conversation as meaning abuse or 
profanity. 

The little steamer moves slowly up the river, and soon 
passes under another bridge. As you approach, you wonder 
how she will do it, as her smoke-stack — or funnel, as the 
English people call it — is too high to allow her passage. 
The next moment you see it thrown back on a line with the 
deck, and a cloud of sulphurous smoke drifts from its mouth 
among the ladies and children on the seats at the stern. As 
soon as she is clear of the bridge, it is raised again by a 
pulley and weights. It is like the blade of a penknife open¬ 
ing and shutting. You are a little startled when you first see 
it coming down upon you, but you are quickly reassured by 
the unconcern of the others, to whom it is no mystery. The 
masts of the barges on the river are worked in the same way. 
When a bridge is near, one of the boatmen turns a crank, and 
the mast is seen to fall gradually back until it is parallel with 
the deck. When the bridge is passed, the crank lifts it into 
position again. 

Most of these barges are in striking contrast with the sur¬ 
roundings of the river. They are lavishly painted in the 
gaudiest colors, — red, yellow, and green being a favorite 
combination; and the cabin windows are usually draped 
with a trim bit of muslin, which indicates the presence of a 
woman. The other vessels, the row-boats and the ferry-boats 
included, are black and heavy; and on the southern side of 
the river a line of smoky warehouses and a strip of black mud 
add to the cheerlessness of the scene. 

The steamer glides yet farther on, occasionally stopping at a 
pier, where a few passengers are landed and a few others re¬ 
ceived. The small boy is closely attentive to the movements 
of the captain’s hand the while, sharply calling, “ Slow ’er ! ” 
or “ Stop ’er !” as it is raised or lowered, and never moving 
from his perch on the gratings of the engine-room. 


204 Young Folks History of London. 

On one side is the Victoria Embankment, which we have 
already described in the chapter on Improved London, and 
on the other are the storehouses, manufactories, breweries, 
and shabby wharves of Southwark. The dome of St. Paul’s 
Cathedral looms up in the air like a balloon, and we can also 
see some of the towers of the new Law Courts in the Strand. 
We pass under many bridges of the most varied design, some 
of them built of painted and gilded iron, and others built of 
stone, on solid arches black with age and dirt. On both sides 
there are thick clusters of houses and warehouses, towering 
above which a palace or a public building is occasionally 
seen. A pall of smoke floats above all, and the sunlight is 
subdued and yellow. 

The Houses of Parliament stand close by the Thames at 
Westminster, with the Abbey in the rear; and the view of 
them from the river is superb. While they are large and im¬ 
posing, they have a sort of airy grace, which is produced by 
numerous towers, spires, and abundant scroll-work. They 
seem so finely wrought that they might be woven of lace in¬ 
stead of stone, and they realize all one’s ideas of a palace, 
even of a fairy palace. 

The landings of the steamer are made with scarcely a min¬ 
ute’s delay. A plank is thrown between the deck and the 
pier. Passengers step on board or ashore without hurry or 
confusion. “ Go ahead ! ” the small boy shouts, and we 
start into the stream again at full speed. This is one of the 
things they manage better in London than in America. Peo¬ 
ple do not try to jump on board after the steamer has started, 
nor to jump ashore before she has arrived, and so there are 
few accidents. 

Near Lambeth Bridge, on the southern bank of the river, 
there is a stone building which looks half like a castle and 
half like a fort. It is Lambeth Palace, formerly a place of 
confinement for heretics, and for more than seven centuries 



LAMBETH PALACE. 



LOLLARDS’ PRISON. 



















































































































































i88 3 . 


Lambeth Palace. 


207 


used as the London residence of the Archbishop of Canter¬ 
bury. Its appearance is disappointing; for “ palace ” is a 
grand and promising word, exciting to the imagination. 
But this, like some of the other palaces of London, is a very 
ordinary-looking building, and is no better architecturally 
than Millbank Prison, on the opposite side. 

To many, the most interesting part of the building is the 
Lollards’ Tower, in which the followers of Wickliffe were im¬ 
prisoned and executed. In a room at the top is a trap-door 
through which, as the tide rose, prisoners secretly condemned 
could be let down unseen into the river. Hard by is the 
Lollards’ Prison. The rough-hewn boards bear many frag¬ 
ments of inscriptions which show that others .besides Lollards 
were imprisoned here. Other boards bear the notches cut 
by the prisoners to mark the lapse of time. The eight rings 
remain, to which the prisoners were secured; and a spectator 
feels how much the captive chained nearest to the window 
must have been envied by his companions. 

After Lambeth, the next stopping-place is Chelsea, where 
we change boats for Kew, and where there is a famous hos¬ 
pital for old and disabled seamen. The building was designed 
by Sir Christopher Wren, the foundation stone having been 
laid by Charles II., in 1681 ; and in it are many paint¬ 
ings, statues, and military trophies. In the wards of the 
hospital each pensioner has his own little oak chamber, 
where he may have his own pictures, books, and furniture, 
with a door and window opening upon the great common 
passage. There are nurses to every ward. 

The pensioners have their meals in their own little rooms, 
and are permitted to come and go as they choose. They 
may be absent for two months with leave, receiving an allow¬ 
ance of twenty cents a day if absent for more than three days. 

The hall (now used by the pensioners as a club-room, 
with tables for chess, cards, books, and newspapers) is hung 




208 Young Folks' History of London. 

with tattered colors taken by the British army. On the end 
wall is a vast picture by Verrio and Henry Cooke, given by 
the Earl of Ranelagh, with an equestrian figure of Charles II. 
in the centre. It was the figure of the orange-girl in the 
corner of the picture which gave rise to the now exploded 
tradition that the foundation of the hospital was instigated 
by Nell Gwynne. 

On the panels round the room the victories of Great Brit¬ 
ain are recorded, and it was in this hall that the great Duke 
of Wellington lay in state, Nov. 10-17, 1852. 

The chapel is decorated with a mass of banners in every 
stage of decay, — often only a few threads remaining, which 
wave from the roof, and fill the space at once with gloom and 
color. When the sanctuary is filled by the veteran soldiers, 
with their medals on their breasts, it is a touching sight. 
There are about five hundred and fifty pensioners in the 
hospital, who wear red coats in summer and blue coats in 
winter, and retain the cocked hats of the last century. 

In a quiet street called Cheyne Row, running from the 
river side, is the house in which Thomas Carlyle lived for 
many years, and shut his door in the face of many an intru¬ 
sive visitor. 

Chelsea is also famous for its buns, which are sold at all 
the confectioneries in England. They are not like other 
buns, and contain no currants. They are richer, sweeter, 
softer, and altogether more palatable. Their color is bright 
yellow within, and a delicate brown without. In the centre 
of each there is a dainty bit of citron, and the crust is gener¬ 
ously sprinkled with sparkling grains of crystallized sugar. 

We resume our voyage in another steamer, different from 
the London Bridge boat in name only. Another small boy 
sits under the bridge to convey the captain’s orders to the 
engineer, and he, like our old friend, is of a silent and retir¬ 
ing disposition. The wonder is that, though he is reading a 



PALM HOUSE AT 































































































































































































































































































































































































































1883. 


Above Chelsea . 


21 I 


story-paper all the while, he never misses a movement of the 
captain’s hand, and never fails to chirp, “ Stop ’er ! ” “ Slow 
’er ! ” as alertly as though his whole mind was in his business. 
His bright eyes seem centred on the paper, but he has a 
corner reserved especially for the man on the bridge. 

Our fellow-passengers are changed. Only two or three of 
those who came with us on the first boat remain. The 
others, including several little Londoners in holiday dress, ar¬ 
rived at Chelsea earlier, and were waiting. Some musicians, 
with a violin, a harp, and a flute, have also joined the company, 
and strike up a lively tune as we approach a more beautiful 
part of the Thames. For a short distance the boat steams 
between two muddy shores; then we see a green field, and, 
farther on, some trees. Soon afterward we are in a lovely 
country, beyond the smoke and toil of the city. On the 
banks of the river, set back among the woods, are the villas of 
prosperous people, with picturesque boat-houses, and velvet¬ 
like lawns reaching to the water’s edge. Occasionally we 
hear the tap-tap of a hammer, and pass a boat-builder’s 
yard, where some workmen are repairing a sharp-looking 
scull. 

We now pass Putney, Hammersmith, Chiswick, Barnes, 
and Mortlake. Putney is the starting-point of the annual 
boat-race between the crews of the Oxford and Cambridge 
Universities, and Mortlake is the end of the course. At 
Chiswick Rousseau lived for some time in a little grocer’s 
shop; and the great artist, Hogarth, died there. Mortlake 
also deserves a word for its picturesque little church. Between 
it and Putney the river is given almost entirely to aquatic 
sports. There are many pretty boat-houses on the banks, 
with fleets of cedar sculls before each. It was here that the 
Americans from Harvard College were defeated in a contest 
with the Oxford men; and here, too, exciting swimming and 
rowing matches take place nearly every day in summer. 'The 


212 Young Folks Histoiy of London . 

villages on the route contain queer old houses, built among 
sweetbrier and honeysuckle. The roofs are covered with 
warm red tiles, and the walls are white, with lattice-work 
porches by the doors. 

About three quarters of an hour after our departure from 
Chelsea we are landed at Kew. Close to the pier there are 
tea-gardens without number, each displaying a sign : “ Tea for 
ninepence,” and “ Hot water.” It is in these tea-gardens 
that the London children will end their holiday. Their par¬ 
ents have brought heavy baskets filled with eatables, and, 
when they have inspected the botanic gardens, they will come 
here to feast. The landlord supplies hot water, chairs and 
tables, charging twopence (or four cents) for each person; 
and the visitors supply their own food. Of course all visitors 
do not follow this plan. There are fashionable hotels in Kew, 
at which from three to eight shillings (or two dollars) are 
charged for dinner. But such people as we saw on the boat 
— the mechanics, with their wives and children — will surely 
avail themselves of the “ hot water ” plan; and you may be 
certain that they will enjoy themselves. In the evening they 
will return to the city by the boat or the third-class train, 
and will not have another holiday, perhaps, for a year. 

The great attraction of Kew is its magnificent botanic gar¬ 
den, perhaps the finest in the world, in which, flourishing 
in an atmosphere of their own, may be seen the most beauti¬ 
ful tropical palms, plants, ferns, fern-trees, and cacti, besides 
every sort of indigenous flower, shrub, and tree. 

The Church of St. Anne at Kew was built in 1714, and 
its graveyard contains the tombs of many celebrated men, in¬ 
cluding that of Gainsborough, the artist. 

From Oxford down to Putney, the Thames flows through 
some of the loveliest pastoral scenery in England; but it is 
not within our scope to go beyond Hampton Court, which is 
the limit of the steamboat excursions. On the way thereto 
























































































































































































































































































































































































1883. 


Hampton Court. 


215 


we pass Richmond, where the winding river flows through a 
deeply wooded landscape which is scarcely equalled in Great 
Britain, — “a huge sea of verdure,” Sir Walter Scott calls it, 
" with crossing and intersecting promontories of massive and 
tufted groves. . . . The Thames, here turreted with villas, 
and there garlanded with forests, moves forward slowly and 
placidly, like the mighty monarch of the scene.” 

Hampton Court, which is twenty-three and a quarter miles 
from London Bridge by the river, and fifteen miles by rail¬ 
way, was the palace of Wolsey, Henry VIII., Queen Mary, 
Queen Elizabeth, Charles I., Charles II, James II., William 
III., Queen Anne, and the first of the Hanoverian kings. A 
great mass of picturesque old buildings, containing many 
relics of departed royalty, is set in the midst of grounds of 
which the gardener’s art has made a paradise of flowers; and 
when the excursionist has worn himself out in wandering 
through the reminiscent halls, wherein are the dusty bed¬ 
steads, the chairs, the tapestries, and the portraits of many 
princes, he may pass out through the ancient court-yard into 
this scene of enchanting beauty, where the air is soft and 
fragrant, and where there are trees which were full-grown, 
ages before the great cardinal who built the palace had won 
any fame. 

The collection of pictures will repay a visit to Hampton 
Court in winter or summer ; but to know how lovely the sur¬ 
roundings of this quaint old palace are, one must visit it on 
a fair June day, when the chestnuts in Bushey Park are in 
bloom, and their long avenues uphold, on pillars each more 
than a hundred feet high, colossal bouquets of creamy flow¬ 
ers. A summer spent in England has nothing to offer more 
beautiful than this; and this to the London excursionist is 
the culminating pleasure of a trip up the Thames. 


“ Prince Edward. Uncle, what gentleman is that ? 

Gloster. It is, sweet Prince, Lieutenant of the Tower. 

Prince Edward. Sir, we are come to be your guests to-night. 

I pray you, tell me, did you ever know 
Our father, Edward, lodge within this place ? 

Brackenbury. Never to lodge, my liege, but oftentimes 
On other occasions I have seen him here. 

Prince Richard. Brother, last night when you did send for me, 
My mother told me, hearing we should lodge 
Within the Tower, that it was a prison, 

And therefore marvell’cl that my uncle Gloster, 

Of all the houses for a king’s receipt 
Within this city, had appointed none 
Where you might keep your court but only here. 

Gloster. Vile brats ! how they do descant on the Towner. — 

My gentle nephew, they were ill-advised 
To torture you with such unfitting terms 
(Whoe’er they were) against this royal mansion. 

What if some part of it hath been reserved 
To be a prison for nobility, 

Follows it therefore that it cannot serve 
To any other use ? Caesar himself, 

That built the same, within it kept his court, 

And many kings since him; the rooms are large, 

The building stately, and for strength beside 
It is the safest and the surest hold you have. 

Prince Edzoard. Uncle of Gloster, if you think it so, 

T is not for me to contradict your will ; 

We must allow it, and are well content.” 


Heywood. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


THE TOWER. 

The Tower is situated on the Middlesex side of the Thames, 
a little below London Bridge, from which it is plainly visible, 
and the buildings which compose it present the appearance 
of a small fortified town of Germany or Flanders. It has a 
wide, deep moat, and the inner wall, which is immensely thick, 
varies from thirty to forty feet in height. The only vestige of 
the royal palace — finally demolished by Cromwell — is the 
buttress of an old archway adjoining the Salt Tower, but 
most of the buildings have stubbornly resisted the attacks of 
time. 

The building was begun, as the reader was informed in a 
previous chapter, by Gundulf, under the direction of William 
the Conqueror ; and it was completed by Henry III., who took 
a remarkable interest in the work. For centuries it served as 
a palace and a prison, and its gloomy walls are piteously elo¬ 
quent of the tragedies of English history. Here the two sons 
of Edward IV. were murdered, and Queen Elizabeth was im¬ 
prisoned by her sister. Among the tenants, also, were Lady 
Jane Grey and Sir Walter Raleigh. The catalogue of names 
is a long one, however, and instead of repeating it, we will 
gather what we can of the “ romance ” belonging to this 
famous building. 

There is a pretty tradition connected with the Tower in the 
time of the Wars of the Roses. Sir Henry Wyatt was impris¬ 
oned as a rebel, and thrown into a dungeon without suf- 


2i8 Young Folks' History of London . 

ficient covering or food. One day a cat stole into his cell, 
and by making much of her he won her affection. She vis¬ 
ited him again and again, and several times brought pigeons 
to him, with which he appeased his hunger. What became 
of this particular cat is not known; but ever afterwards Sir 
Henry, like Whittington, invariably had one of her kind in¬ 
cluded in the portraits of himself. 

The murder of the Yorkist princes occurred about the time 
of this gentleman’s incarceration. Prince Edward was entitled 
to the crown ; but his uncle, the Duke of Gloster, who had been 
appointed Protector, cast the boy king and his brother, Prince 
Richard, into the Tower. Edward was only twelve, and Rich¬ 
ard was eight. The usurper was not satisfied with their im¬ 
prisonment ; they stood between him and the crown which he 
coveted, and word soon went forth for their death. The Gov¬ 
ernor of the Tower refused to have anything to do with the 
business, and under Gloster’s instructions two assassins were 
hired by Sir James Tyrrell. It is supposed that one boy had 
his throat cut, while the other was smothered by a pillow. 
The two murderers, helped by an obsequious priest, then 
buried the bodies near the gateway wall; but Gloster after¬ 
wards had them reinterred behind a staircase in the keep, 
where they were found in the time of Charles II. 

It is believed by some historians that Gloster also murdered 
Henry VI. in the Tower. 

Henry VIII. sent many victims to the Tower, including the 
poetical Earl of Surrey and John Fisher, Bishop of Roches¬ 
ter, both of whom were beheaded. The latter, whose sin 
was his disapproval of the King’s latest marriage, might have 
been spared, had the Pope not sent him a cardinal’s hat. This 
enraged Henry, who cried out, “ If he wear it, he shall wear 
it on his shoulders ! ” 

The death-warrant was at once signed, and the prelate 
crossed to the scaffold with the New Testament in his hands, 



THE TOWER OF LONDON. 











































































































































































































































1 553* 


The Nine Days' Queen. 


221 


reading the passage : “ This is life eternal, to know Thee, the 
only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom Thou hast sent.” 

The next illustrious prisoners were Lady Jane Grey, her 
young husband, and the nobles who forced upon her the 
fatal crown, which she wore for nine days. 

Her sad history is well known. She was young, accom¬ 
plished, and of royal descent. In 1553, when ruling in the 
name of the youthful Edward VI., the Duke of Suffolk and 
the Duke of Northumberland, foreseeing the early death of 



NORMAN CHAPEL IN THE TOWER. 


the King, resolved to secure the crown for their own families. 
Lady Jane, the daughter of the former, then only sixteen 
years old, was accordingly married to Lord Guilford Dudley, 
the fourth son of the latter, and the King was persuaded 
to make a deed of settlement, giving the crown to her, though 
the right of succession belonged to his sisters, Mary and 
Elizabeth, and the Queen of Scots. 

She was proclaimed Queen on Edward’s death, but the 























































































































































222 Young Folks History of London . 

people rebelled against so lawless a usurpation. The Eastern 
Counties took up arms for Mary; and when Northumberland 
marched from London with ten thousand men at his back 
to crush the rising, the Londoners, Protestant though they 
were, refused to cheer him. “ The people crowd to look at 
us,” said the Duke moodily, “but not one calls, God speed 
ye.” 

His courage failed suddenly, and Lady Jane was left without 
supporters. Northumberland himself shouted with his men 
for Queen Mary ; but his submission did not avert his doom, 
and when he was sent to the Tower he drew with him the 
innocent girl who had been the tool of his ambition. 

On the scaffold Lady Jane admitted that her acts against 
the Queen had been unlawful. “But,” she added, “they 
were not my fault, and I wash my hands thereof in inno¬ 
cence before God and in the face of you, good Christian 
people, this day.” 

She refused help, drew a white kerchief over her own 
eyes, and said to the executioner, “ I pray you despatch 
me quickly.” Kneeling before the block, she felt for it, 
and as she placed her head upon it, she exclaimed just be¬ 
fore the axe fell, “ Lord, into thy hands I commend my 
spirit.” 

An illustrious prisoner of the Tower was Sir Walter Raleigh, 
who was confined in it for fourteen years. Once the favorite 
of the Court, a distinguished explorer, an accomplished writer, 
a man of science and a patriot, this unfortunate gentleman 
was thrown into prison on false charges, his property was con¬ 
fiscated, and eventually he was executed, though innocent of 
any crime. His wife was allowed to share his confinement, 
and he occupied his time with authorship and scientific re¬ 
search. He wrote the first volume of his “ History of the 
World” while in the Tower, and discovered several medicines 
which were held in high esteem for many years. “ No one 





PORTRAIT OF RALEIGH. 























i6i8. 


Execution of Raleigh. 


225 


but my father,” said Prince Henry, the son of James I., “would 
keep such a bird in a cage.” 

At last he obtained his release, to command an expedition 
to Guiana, which he intended to colonize in the interest of 
England. He set sail with thirteen ships ; but his constitution 
had been shattered by the hardships of his long imprisonment, 
and on reaching Guiana he became so ill that he could pro¬ 
ceed no farther. Following his instructions, however, the expe¬ 
dition sailed up the Orinoco in search of gold. This involved 
them in a conflict with the Spaniards, and though they were 
victorious, and took the town of St. Thomas, the Government 
at home condemned their action. 

Just then a treaty was on foot for a marriage of Prince 
Charles with the Spanish Infanta, and the English Government 
was intent before all things on conciliating Spain. Philip’s 
ambassador was instructed to urge the punishment of Raleigh, 
ostensibly for the attack on St. Thomas, but really because he 
had always been recognized as the implacable enemy of Spain. 
When he arrived at Plymouth, Raleigh was arrested, brought 
to London, and once more committed to the Tower. 

Here he was very narrowly watched, in the hope that some¬ 
thing in his correspondence might be detected which could 
be brought forward against him ; but as the Government failed 
in this, it was determined that a sentence of death passed on 
him fifteen years before should now be carried out. 

“ New offences,” said the Chief Justice, “ had revived what 
the law had formerly condoned.” 

Raleigh was condemned to die on October 29th, 1618, and 
though he pleaded hard for a brief respite, the favor was de¬ 
nied him. The place of execution chosen was the Palace 
Yard at Westminster, and when the prisoner appeared he made 
a speech, forgiving his enemies, but asserting his innocence 
of the charges which had brought him to the block. 

The morning being sharp, and some delays arising, the 

1 S 


226 You Jig Folks Histoiy of London. 

sheriff asked if he would like to warm himself at a fire. “No, 
good Mr. Sheriff,” said he. “ Let us despatch ; for within this 
quarter of an hour mine ague will come upon me, and if 1 
be not dead before then, mine enemies will say I quake for 
fear.” 

Then he poised the axe, and felt its edge, saying with a 
smile, “ This is a sharp medicine, but it will cure all diseases.” 
Seeing that the headsman hesitated, he exclaimed, “ What 
dost thou fear? Strike, man.” 

Among others imprisoned in the Tower were Archbishop 
Cranmer, and Bishops Latimer and Ridley; Anne Boleyn; 
Queen Elizabeth ; the Gunpowder Plot conspirators ; Colonel 
Blood, who attempted to steal the crown jewels; Lady 
Arabella Stuart; the Duke of Buckingham; Lord William 
Russell; Earl Strafford; Algernon Sidney; the Duke of 
Monmouth ; and — more deservedly than any — the in¬ 
famous Judge Jeffreys. 

Few, except the queens, were executed within the walls; 
the death penalty was usually carried out on Tower Hill, in 
an open space adjoining the Tower, where the last per¬ 
son beheaded in England was executed, April 9, 1747,— 
Lord Lovat, who died expressing his astonishment that such 
vast multitudes should assemble “ to see an old gray head 
taken off.” 

Down by the river is “ the Traitor’s Gate,” through which 
many of the prisoners were admitted. On one of the stones, 
when committed by her sister, Princess (afterwards Queen) 
Elizabeth stood, refusing to land, until the lords who escorted 
her threatened to use force. “ Here landeth,” she exclaimed, 
“ as Rue a subject as ever landed at these stairs — and be¬ 
fore thee, O God ! I speak it, having none other friend than 
thee.” 

In January, 1640, Strafford was returned to the Tower 
through the same gateway; and this way also came Bishop 


1640. 


Traitor s Gate. 


227 



eleven, — on Tuesdays and Fridays, twelve — the head war¬ 
den, clothed in a long red cloak, bearing a huge bunch of 
keys, and attended by another warden carrying a lantern, 
appears in front of the main guard-house and loudly calls out, 
“ Escort keys ! ” The Sergeant of the Guard, with five or 
six men, then turns out and follows him to the “ spur,” or 
outer gate, each sentry challenging, as they pass his post, — 
“ Who goes there? ” 

“ Keys,” is the response. 


Fisher, Anne Boleyn, the Earl of Surrey, Sir Walter Raleigh, 
and Lady Jane Grey. 

The Tower is now garrisoned by soldiers, whose red coats 
blaze against the cold gray walls of the buildings, and many 
of the rooms are filled with modern arms, arranged in dec¬ 
orative forms. Every night at eleven o’clock the sentry of 
the guard challenges the chief warden as that official goes 
forth to lock up the fortress. 

Locking up the Tower is an ancient and picturesque cere¬ 
mony. A few minutes before the clock strikes the hour of 


OLD LONDON BRIDGE. 






















228 


Young Folks' History of London. 


When the gates are locked and barred, the procession re¬ 
turns, the sentries exacting the same explanation and receiv¬ 
ing the same answer as before, until the front of the main 
guard-house is again reached. The sentry there stamps his 
foot and cries, “ Who goes there ? ” 

“ Keys.” 

“ Whose keys? ” 

“Queen Victoria’s keys.” 

“ Advance, Queen Victoria’s keys, and all’s well.” 

The warden now exclaims, “ God bless Queen Victoria ! ” 
to which the guard responds, “ Amen ! ” 

Immediately after this the officer on duty gives the word, 
“ Present arms ! ” The firelocks rattle, the officer kisses the 
hilt of his sword, the men of the escort fall in among their 
companions, and the warden marches across the parade alone, 
to deposit the keys in the Lieutenant’s lodging. No one can 
then enter or leave the Tower until morning, nor can any one 
stir within the walls without having the countersign. 

One can pity the sentry as he marches up and down on a 
dark night, when no other sound can be heard than his own 
footsteps on the stones and the moan of the wind as it blows 
up the river. Particularly does he deserve sympathy if he is 
a superstitious man, and knows something about the history 
of the great prison. As he looks up at the high bleak walls, 
the long battlements, the gaunt turrets, and the narrow case¬ 
ments, and his mind dwells on the former tenants, and he 
recalls the tragedies which have been enacted, some of them, 
perhaps, on the very spot upon which he is standing, it is 
not strange that his imagination plays tricks with him now 
and then, and that he fancies he hears sepulchral voices and 
sees shadowy forms stalking about the ancient building. The 
record of the Tower is a history of murder. Many innocent 
persons have been incarcerated in its dungeons, and tortured 
or put to death. The buildings are penetrated by winding 


The Tower Ghosts . 


229 


1817. 

passages, through which spies could pass to listen to the pris¬ 
oners’ conversation, and by which some of the prisoners were 
led to secret execution. There are cells which are so sit¬ 
uated, that at high tide the water-rats were driven into them, 
to gnaw the unfortunate inmates; and others with trap-doors 
opening into ghastly holes, the purpose of which is plain 
enough. Little wonder, indeed, that the sentry has a belief in 
ghosts, and is glad when he sees the morning breaking in gray 
streaks down the river. 

Several ghosts are said to haunt the Tower, and a startling 
apparition was seen by Edward Swift, keeper of the crown 
jewels, one Saturday night in October, 1817. 

He was at supper with his wife, her sister, and his little boy, 
in the sitting-room of the jewel-house. The room had three 
doors and two windows; between the windows a chimney- 
piece projected far into the interior. 

On that evening the doors were closed, the windows cur¬ 
tained, and the only light was given by the candles on the 
table. Mr. Swift sat at the foot of the table, with his boy on 
his right, his wife facing the chimney, and her sister opposite. 

Suddenly the lady exclaimed, “ Great heavens ! what is 
that?” Mr. Swift then saw a cylindrical figure, like a glass 
tube, seemingly about the thickness of his arm, hovering 
between the ceiling and the table. Its contents appeared to 
be a dense fluid, white and pale azure, incessantly rolling 
within the cylinder. This lasted two minutes, after which 
the appearance began to move round the table. Mr. Swift 
saw it pass behind his wife, who shrieked in an agony of terror, 
“ O God ! it has seized me ! ” It then disappeared, neither 
the sister nor the boy having seen it. But soon afterwards 
the sentry at the jewel-house was terrified by “ a figure like a 
bear; ” he fell down in a fit, and died two or three days later. 

The Tower still contains many of the old instruments of 
torture, including the rack, which was called the “ Duke of 


230 Young Folks History of London . 

Exeter’s daughter,” it having been introduced by that noble¬ 
man in the reign of Henry VI. 

It is a large open frame of oak, raised three feet from the 
ground. The prisoner was laid under it, on his back, on the 
floor; his wrists and ankles were attached by cords to two 
rollers at the ends of the frame, and the rollers were moved by 
levers in opposite directions, till the body rose to a level with 
the frame. Questions were' then put; and if the answers did 
not prove satisfactory, the sufferer was stretched more and 
more, till the bones started from their sockets. 

In 1546 occurred the only case in which a woman is re¬ 
corded to have been tortured, the case of Anne Askew; and 
we learn that the Lord Chancellor, “ finding the rack-keeper 
falter in his operations, threw off his gown, and drew the rack 
himself so severely that he almost tore her body asunder.” 

Alexander Briant, a Jesuit, was, in May, 1581, tortured in 
the Tower; and Anthony Wood says that, besides the ordi¬ 
nary torture, he was “specially punished for two whole days 
and nights by famine, being reduced to such extremities that 
he ate the clay out of the walls of his prison, and drank the 
droppings of the roof.” Campion, the priest, who was 
arrested in July, 1581, was severely racked in the Tower ; and 
though Lord Burleigh wrote that “ the warders, whose office 
it was to handle the rack, were ever, by those that attended 
the examinations, specially charged to use it in as charitable 
a manner as might be ” — Campion was so wrung by the tor¬ 
ture, that when he was arraigned, he could not lift his hand, 
which was held up for him by a fellow-prisoner. 

One warrant of Elizabeth’s to the Lieutenant of the Tower 
directs him to examine two prisoners charged with robbery, 
and says that if they deny their guilt, they are “ to be brought 
to the rack, and to feel the smart thereof, as the examiners 
by their discretion shall think good, for the better boultmg out 
the truth of the matter 


1596 


The Use of the Rack 


231 


In February, 1596-7, a warrant was issued for the racking 
of William Thompson, “ charged with a purpose to burn her 
Majesty’s ships, or to do some notable villany,” and it has 



MENAGERIE IN THE TOWER. 


been said that “ if we may draw our conclusions from the 
entries in the Council-books, there is no period of our history 
in which this torture was used more frequently and mer¬ 
cilessly than during the latter years of Elizabeth’s reign.” 







































































































































































































232 Young Folks History of London . 

“ The rack seldom stood idle in the Tower for all the lat¬ 
ter part of Elizabeth’s reign,” remarks Hallam. 

The conspirators in the Gunpowder Plot were severely 
racked, Guy Fawkes being tortured under a warrant in James’s 
own handwriting; and Nicholas Owen, Garnet’s servant, was 
questioned while he was suspended by his thumbs from a 
beam. He was threatened with the rack as a further means 
of getting admissions from him, and the dread of that torture 
drove him to commit suicide with his dinner-knife when the 
jailer had for a moment left him alone. 

Besides the rack, there were other instruments of torture 
used in the Tower. 

“The Scavenger’s Daughter,” — a name corrupted from 
that of its inventor, Skevington, a lieutenant of the Tower 
in the reign of Henry VIII.,— was a broad hoop of iron, 
consisting of two parts, fastened together by a hinge. The 
prisoner was compelled to kneel on the pavement, and to 
contract himself into as small a compass as he could. The 
executioner then knelt on his victim’s shoulders, and having 
passed the one part under his legs, he fastened the extremities 
of the hoop over the small of the back. The time allowed 
for this torture was an hour and a half, during which time 
blood often started from the nostrils, and even from the hands 
and feet. 

“ The Scavenger’s Daughter ” was used in a dungeon called 
“ Little Ease,” which was so constructed that the prisoner could 
neither stand, walk, sit, nor lie down. 

Thumb-screws, favorite instruments in Spain, were not much 
used in England, perhaps because the torture of the “ iron 
gauntlets” was considered more fully to carry out the princi¬ 
ple on which they were constructed. These gauntlets could 
be contracted by the aid of a screw, and served to compress 
the wrists, and to suspend the prisoner from two distant points 
of a beam. The prisoner was placed on three pieces of wood. 



THE ARMORY 
















































































































































































































































1640. 


The Crown yeivels. 


235 


piled one on the other, which, when his hands had been made 
fast, were successively withdrawn from under his feet. 

F. Gerard, who was thus tortured, says : “ I felt the chief 
pain in my breast, belly, arms, and hands. I thought that all 
the blood in my body had run into my arms, and began to 
burst out at my finger ends. This was a mistake ; but the 
arms swelled, till the gauntlets were buried within the flesh. 
After being thus suspended an hour, I fainted; and when I 
came to myself, I found the executioners supporting me in 
their arms; they replaced the pieces of wood under my feet; 
but as soon as I was recovered, removed them again. Thus 
I continued hanging for the space of five hours, during which 
I fainted eight or nine times.” 

Torture seems to have been nearly always against the 
spirit of the law in England, however, and it was last inflicted 
in 1640. 

Visitors to the Tower are escorted through the buildings 
by elderly officials, who, though speaking with a pronounced 
Cockney accent, wear the uniform of Henry VIII.’s yeomen 
of the guard, and are historically known as “ beef-eaters,”—a 
designation of doubtful origin. These worthies marshal the 
visitors together, and lead them from place to place, giving 
them bits of absolutely untrustworthy information on the 
way. To a “ beef-eater’s ” mind the chief points of attrac¬ 
tion are the armories and the crown jewels. Both of these 
are certainly interesting. x The jewels are said to be worth 
$15,000,000, and are enclosed in a glass case, carefully 
guarded, and surmounted by the crown of Queen Victoria. 
'The latter is a diadem of gold, with four arches rising al¬ 
most perpendicularly from the circlet. A cap of purple and 
ermine fits the band where it rests on the head; and the 
gold work is ornamented with flowers and enriched with 
jewels of enormous value. There are two rows of two hun¬ 
dred and forty-one pearls, between which in front of the crown 


236 


Young Folks History of London. 


is a large sapphire. At the back is a cluster formed of seven 
sapphires and eight emeralds. Above and below the sapphires 
are fourteen diamonds, and around the eight emeralds one 
hundred and twenty-eight diamonds. Between the emeralds 
and the sapphires are sixteen trefoil ornaments, containing 
one hundred and sixty diamonds. Above the band are eight 
sapphires, surmounted by eight diamonds, between which are 
eight festoons, consisting of one hundred and forty-eight dia¬ 
monds. There is a tradition that the large sapphire came out 
of the famous ring of Edward the Confessor, long treasured 
at his shrine. In the centre of a Maltese cross in the crown 
is a ruby said to have been given to the Black Prince, which 
was worn by Henry V. at the battle of Agincourt. One fleur- 
de-lis between the crosses of the crown contains rose diamonds, 
each flower having a ruby in the centre; and the four arches 
are composed of oak-leaves and acorns, containing nearly 
eight hundred diamonds. The value of thegen\s alone is said 
to be fully $600,000. 

The other regalia in the case are the Prince of Wales’s crown 
of gold, without jewels ; the crown used by the Queen’s con¬ 
sort, of gold, set with diamonds and precious stones; the 
queen’s circlet, made for Mary of Modena, wife of James II.; 
the orb, a ball of gold set with jewels and surmounted by a 
cross,— a universal badge of authority, held by sovereigns in 
the right hand at coronations; St. Edward’s staff, a golden 
sceptre carried before the sovereign on the occasion just men¬ 
tioned ; the “ king’s sceptre with the cross ” and “ the king’s 
sceptre with the dove ; ” “ the queen’s sceptre with the cross ; ” 
the queen’s ivory rod, — a sceptre with a golden cross and 
dove ; the bracelets worn at coronations ; the royal spurs ; the 
ampulla which holds the consecrated oil at coronations ; the 
curtana , a sword of mercy carried between the swords of tem¬ 
poral and spiritual justice ; the salt-cellar of state, a model of 
the White 'Tower; the silver fountain presented to Charles II. 



THE CROWN JEWELS 



































































































































































































































































































































1671. 


A Bold Attempt at Theft. 


239 


by the town of Plymouth ; and the silver font used at the bap¬ 
tisms of royal children. 

A bold attempt to steal the jewels was made by an Irish¬ 
man named Blood in the reign of Charles II. He had been 
a lieutenant in Cromwell’s army, and had then become a 
Government spy. His desperate character was notorious. 
On one occasion he waylaid the Duke of Ormond and 
attempted to hang him at Tyburn, — a plan which all but 
succeeded. 

In the attempt to steal the regalia he had four accomplices. 
Disguised as a country parson in band and gown, Blood first 
visited the Tower accompanied by a woman who passed for 
his wife. While they were looking at the jewels, the woman 
feigned a sudden-illness, and was shown into the private apart¬ 
ments of Talbot Edwards, the deputy-keeper, a man eighty 
years old. Blood then observed the situation and the few 
means of defence at hand. Four days later, he called with a 
present of gloves for Mrs. Edwards, and he repeated his visits, 
becoming more friendly each time, until at last he proposed 
that his nephew should marry the deputy-keeper’s daughter. 
Pie finally fixed a day when the bridegroom should present 
himself for approval, and at the appointed time he arrived 
at the outside of the iron gate with four companions, all being 
on horseback. The plan of action was now fully matured. 
Hunt, Blood’s son-in-law, was to hold the horses ; a man 
named Parrot was to steal the globe, while Blood carried off 
the crown; a third accomplice was to file the sceptre into 
pieces and slip them into a bag, and a fourth was to imper¬ 
sonate the lover. All were armed. 

While pretending to await the arrival of his wife, Blood asked 
Edwards to show his friends the jewels, and accordingly they 
were conducted into the treasure-house. It is the custom 
that when any strangers are inspecting the jewels, the doors 
shall be locked on the inside. Edwards turned the key, and 


240 Young Folks History of London . 

was about to comply with the request that had been made, 
when the thieves revealed their true character. They set 
upon him, gagged him, and beat him until he was nearly 
dead. Just at that moment the old man’s son arrived home 
from Flanders, and he was the means of frustrating the bold 
attempt. Blood and Parrot made off at once with the globe 
and crown; but though they fired at one sentinel and 
wounded another, they were captured with their comrades. 
They were not punished, however. Their leader possessed 
a strange influence over the King, and he was not only 
pardoned, but received at Court and pensioned in the sum 
of five hundred pounds a year. 

The Tower also contains a remarkably extensive and inter¬ 
esting collection of armor and weapons; ancient British axes, 
swords, and spears, halberds, shields, and helmets, and all the 
paraphernalia of historic warfare. 

The armories in the Tower were established by the earliest 
kings, and many of the curiosities which they contain were 
on view even in the time of Queen Elizabeth. In them one 
can trace the development of armor from the time when the 
Crusaders of Henry III.’s reign brought chain-mail from the 
East, to the period of the elaborately engraved and otherwise 
ornamented armor worn by Henry VIII. Armor fell into 
disuse towards the close of the seventeenth century. 

“ Beyond all question,” says an English writer, “the most 
interesting building in Great Britain is the Tower of London. 
There are other places remarkable for this and that historical 
association ; for deeds of high-handed oppression ; for memo¬ 
ries of life-long persecution : but none of these possesses a 
record equal in interest to that ( f any one of the score of dun¬ 
geons in that gray isolated pile in which our kings have lived 
and our nobles have perished for so many hundred years. 
Each one of its many towers is a long chapter of our history, 
full of violence and blood, and yet not without some noble 


1671. 


Varied Interest of the Tower. 


241 


incidents also ; each stone-walled chamber is a page out of 
human life more romantic than novelist would dare to paint. 
What scenes have those old walls witnessed ! What groans 
have they heard ! A royal palace, — a state prison, — a 
slaughter-house, where the noble and base have perished 
by the indiscriminate axe, — a burial-place of murdered 
queens ! ” 


“ My house within the city 
Is richly furnished with plate and gold; 

Basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands ; 

My hangings all of Tynan tapestry; 

In ivory coffers I have scuff’d my crowns; 

In cypress chests my arras counterpoints, 
Costly apparel, tents, and canopies, 

Fine linen, Turkish cushions boss’d with pearl, 
Valance of Venice gold in needlework, 

Pewter and brass and all things that belong 
To house or housekeeping.” 


Shakespeare. 


CHAPTER XV. 


THE LORD MAYORS OF LONDON. 

The opulence of London was a constant temptation to the 
needy kings, who jealously saw the increasing power of its 
citizens. Before the Conquest, the city possessed greater lib¬ 
erties than the rest of the country ; and, as we have already 
seen, William the First confirmed them, declaring that every 
burgess in the city was law-worthy, and that every child should 
be his father’s heir. In other words, the charter which the 
Conqueror granted — written on a slip of parchment six inches 
long and one inch wide — acknowledged that Londoners 
were not “villains” living on the land of their masters, that 
they did not hold their land by the favor of any feudal lord, 
and that they could inherit property from their fathers and 
bequeath it to their heirs. The citizens of other towns, like 
Leicester, had to reap the corn of their earl, to grind at his 
mills, and to redeem their stray cattle at his pound, while the 
“ villains ” could neither inherit property nor bequeath it. 

Another charter was granted by Henry the First which 
recognized the legality of the ancient privileges. The citi¬ 
zens could not be called upon to plead or answer any law¬ 
suit brought against them outside their own city, they were 
exempt from the duties and taxes imposed on other parts of 
the country, and soldiers could not be quartered upon them. 
To a remarkable extent they possessed the rights of self- 
government. But it must not be supposed that such exten- 


244 Young Folks History of London. 

sive concessions were made by the Crown out of love of the 
city. On the contrary, as we have said, the monarch always 
looked jealously on the power which the corporation possessed, 
and coveted the wealth of the citizens. 

Henry the Third’s opinion was expressed when the Coun¬ 
cil at Westminster refused to grant him money, and advised 
him to sell his plate to the city. “ If the treasure of Augus¬ 
tus,” he angrily cried, “were to be sold, these Londoners 
would buy it ! ” Accordingly, the city was compelled to 
pay dearly for its privileges, and every line in the successive 
charters may be said to have been purchased with gold. 
Sometimes, indeed, the same privilege was paid for two or 
three times over, and it was the custom of nearly all the 
kings, when they were impecunious, to revoke the charter, 
and to restore it only after the payment of a large sum of 
money. The monarch was a brigand who made a hostage 
of Liberty, and demanded an enormous price for her ransom. 
On all sorts of absurd pretexts, penalties were imposed on 
the city, and nothing but the inexhaustible riches of the citi¬ 
zens could have enabled London to perpetuate her ancient 
and exceptional privileges. She was robbed by nearly all 
the kings, but her opulence enabled her not only to recover 
the rights arbitrarily taken away from her, but also to aug¬ 
ment them and put them upon a securer basis year after 
year. The citizens endured the rapacity of the Crown with 
much patience. They bowed low to the king, who was like 
a highwayman, and they treated him with magnificent hospi¬ 
tality while the coin which he had extorted from them was 
still jingling in his royal pockets. They were diplomatic : 
they meant to succeed, and they were generally on the win¬ 
ning side. They favored Prince Edward in the Barons’ 
War; they were Yorkists in the Wars of the Roses; they 
were Roundheads in the strife between Charles the First 
and Cromwell; and they were Whigs in the Revolution of 





LORD MAYOR’S RIVER PROCESSION. 




































































1223- 


The First Lord Mayor. 


247 


1688. Year by year they strengthened their position, and 
little by little they shook off the yoke of king and bishop. 

The charter granted by Henry the First seems to have 
been the first step towards making the city a corporation; 
and King John conferred upon the city the right of electing, 
annually, a mayor and common councilmen. Previous to 
this the mayor had been appointed by the king for life, and 
though the title was first given by Richard the First to Henry 
Fitz Alwyn, who bore it for twenty-four years, the first Lord 
Mayor elected by the city was Richard Renger (a. d. 1223). 
It was a condition of the election, however, that the person 
chosen should be submitted to the king for approval, and as 
his Majesty was often abroad in his own dominion or across 
the Channel, this condition led to vexatious and embarrassing 
delays. 

The honor of election was a great one in the eyes of all 
the merchants and their apprentices, and on occasions of 
state the mayor rode through the streets on horseback, at¬ 
tended by a long cavalcade nearly as imposing as that which 
escorted the sovereign from the Tower to Westminster on 
coronation days. 

The courtesy title of lord was first conferred upon him 
by Edward the Third, and he became a “ right honorable ” 
under the same King, who did much to encourage the mer¬ 
chants of London. One Lord Mayor, Sir Geoffrey Bullen, 
or Boleyn, was grandfather of Queen Elizabeth, and among 
the ennobled families who have descended from either may¬ 
ors, sheriffs, or aldermen of London, are the names of Corn¬ 
wallis, Capel, Coventry, Legge, Cowper, Thynne, Ward, 
Craven, Marsham, Pulteney, Hill, Hollis, Osborne, Caven¬ 
dish, and Bennet. 

The opening of the reign of the new mayor is annually 
celebrated on the 9th of November with a pageant which 
attracts a vast London crowd. His lordship rides forth in 


248 Young Folks' History of London. 

his carriage of state (an enormous chariot of gold), attended 
by his suite and delegations of all the city companies, with 
bands of music and glittering banners. Each guild is attired 
in a characteristic costume, and there are also battalions of 
the fire brigade, the militia, and the inmates of various city 
institutions, including the young blue-jackets of the training- 
ships. There are men in armor and quaintly dressed rep¬ 
resentatives of the Worshipful Company of Fishmongers. A 
feature of recent processions has been the American flag, 
borne by a guard of honor, to symbolize the good-will of 
England towards her offspring across the sea. The medie¬ 
valism of the procession is oddly mixed up with latter-day 
innovations. Here are the Foresters, dressed in the tradi¬ 
tional garb of Robin Hood, and various artisans, whose dress 
is that in which their predecessors have for centuries taken 
part in the celebration. This part of the cavalcade might 
have stepped out of a picture of Cheapside as that thorough¬ 
fare was when poor Anne Boleyn came from Greenwich to 
Westminster on her coronation day; and its antique pictu¬ 
resqueness has an incongruous effect when it joins the 
carriages of the aldermen, with their modern “stove pipe ” 
hats and broadcloth, the prosaic constables, and the glitter¬ 
ing engines of the firemen. 

Much of the ancient glory of Lord Mayor’s day has 
departed, and civic dignity no longer inspires with respect¬ 
ful awe the assembled spectators. The men in armor are 
laughed at, and the celebration is treated as a joke which is 
becoming a little stale. But to the children who are brought 
into town to see it from the windows of the shops and 
houses along the route, the procession is still a superb and 
wonderful affair. 

Time was when it surpassed all other pageants, and filled 
the river as well as the streets. The mayor embarked in a 
barge of state, decorated with rich fabrics, banners and 


i6i6 


A Famous Pageaiit , 


249 


streamers and heraldic shields. Fifty barges, filled by the 
various city companies, followed him, and preceding him 
was a float, upon which was a large dragon, emblematic of 
the Tudor arms, which vomited fire, while round about it 
were other monsters belching forth smoke and flame. The 
cloths and banners were of silk and gold and silver. On 
another barge was the image of a white falcon, crowned, on a 
golden rock, and environed with white and red roses, — Anne 
Boleyn’s device, — and around this sat many virgins singing 
and playing sweetly. All the barges were decorated with 
banners and hung with arras and rich carpets, and “ shalms, 



THE OLD LORD MAYOR'S BARGE. 


shagbushes, and divers other instruments continually made 
good music.” 

, One of the most gorgeous Lord Mayor’s shows was that of 
1616, when John Leman was inaugurated. First in the 
procession came a Dutch fishing boat on wheels, wherein 
fishermen were busy drawing up nets full of live fish, which 
were thrown among the people. I his was followed by a 
gigantic crowned dolphin ridden by Arion, and third in the 
pageant was the King of the Moors astride of a golden leopard, 
from which he threw coin among the spectators, while fol¬ 
lowing him again were six tributary kings in gilt armor, each 
carrying gold and silver ingots,— these representing the Gold- 
















































250 Young Folks History of London . 

smiths’ Company. Next came a charade-like embodiment 
of the Lord Mayor’s name — Leman. A car bore a large 
lemon-tree full of fruit, with a pelican feeding her young; 
and at the top of the tree sat five children, representing the 
five senses. Seeing was typified by an eagle, hearing by a 
hart, touch by a spider, tasting by an ape, and smelling by 
a dog. 

The next feature of the procession was an effigy in armor 
of Sir William Walworth, the mayor who slew the rebel chief 
Wat Tyler, and who was himself a Fishmonger. He was sur¬ 
rounded by the shields of all other Lord Mayors who had 
belonged to this guild, and attended by five mounted knights 
and a man-at-arms who bore the rebel’s head upon a dagger. 
Six trumpeters and twenty-four heraldiers surrounded him, 
arrayed in light blue silk, with his arms emblazoned on the 
backs, and the Fishmongers’ arms on the breast. At a given 
signal, an angel with a crown and golden wings approached 
the effigy of the recumbent knight, and when she touched it 
with her wand, Sir William arose from his sleep and took part 
in the procession. 

Finally, there was a triumphant car drawn by two mermen 
and two mermaids, in which sat a guardian angel defending 
the crown of Richard the Second. At the feet of the king 
were virgins personifying Truth, Virtue, Honor, Temperance, 
Fortitude, Zeal, Equity, and Conscience, while two coarse 
figures, representing Treason and Mutiny, crouched before 
them. 

Mr. Pepys, we may be sure, had something to say about 
the Lord Mayor’s shows, but he had more thought of “ my 
new velvet cloak, the first that ever I had in my life,” than 
of the display. 

The finest feature of the modern Lord Mayor’s shows is 
the carved and gilt coach of his lordship, and the paintings 
with which it is decorated perpetuate some of the ancient 



LORD MAYOR’S COACH 











































































i88 3 . 


A Costly Honor. 


253 


pageants. On the panel of the right door Fame is seen pre¬ 
senting the mayor to the genius of the city; on the left door 
the same genius is represented attended by Britannia, who 
points her spear to a shield bearing the name of Henry Fitz- 
Alwyn, the first mayor. There are also pictures of Truth 
with her mirror, Temperance holding a bridle, Justice, and 
Fortitude. The front panel exhibits Faith and Hope point¬ 
ing to St. Paul’s; the back panel reveals Charity, with two 
virgin embodiments of Plenty and Riches casting money and 
fruits into her lap, while a wrecked sailor and a sinking ship 
fill up the background. 

The carved work of the coach is elaborate and beautiful 
after its fashion, consisting of cupids supporting the city arms, 
and other symbols. The vehicle is a mass of gilt, and origi¬ 
nally cost'over $5,000. 

The mayoralty is a costly honor to the incumbent. The 
salary and allowances paid to him during his year of office 
amount, says Timbs, to $30,500. The sumptuously furnished 
Mansion House is given to him for a residence, and he is 
provided with plate worth about $159,000. His household 
consists of twenty gentlemen and a splendid retinue of ser¬ 
vants. He also has the use of the wine cellars of the Man¬ 
sion House and their contents. But so much hospitality and 
such an amount of display are expected of him, that his salary 
and allowances are insufficient, and to them he must be pre¬ 
pared to add large sums out of his private fortune. The 
smallest amount upon which he can escape is about $20,000, 
and if he is of a lavish disposition he can spend three or four 
times that sum without any difficulty. 

The Mansion House banquets are unequalled for their 
richness ; and on the occasion when the city entertained the 
Prince and Princess of Wales, a diamond necklace which cost 
$50,000 was given to the latter, the total expense of the 
entertainment having been about $300,000. 


254 Young Folks History of London. 

Fairholt, the antiquarian, gives us- a full account of the 
manner of the mayor’s election and of his functions. He is 
chosen by the freemen or “ livery ” of the ninety-one guilds 
or city companies. He must be an alderman, and must pre¬ 
viously have served in the office of sheriff. On the 29th of 
September, every year, the names of all the aldermen who 
have not been Lord Mayors are-submitted to the Recorder 
of the city, and a show of hands is taken upon each. The 
two names receiving the largest show of hands are returned 
to the Court of Aldermen, and the court elects the bearer of 
one of the two to be Lord Mayor during the ensuing year. 
No man can possibly be elected who has failed in business, 
unless he has paid all his debts in full; and nominally the 
person chosen must receive the approbation of the Crown. 

On the 8th of November the Lord Mayor elect is publicly 
sworn into office at Guildhall, and the next day is the occa¬ 
sion dear to Londoners as Lord Mayor’s Day, when, with all 
the pageantry that we have mentioned, his lordship goes 
through the city in state to Westminster, there to be again 
sworn to support and uphold the Crown and make a due 
return of all fines and fees passing through his hands during 
his year of office. Formerly it was customary for him to go 
to Westminster by water in a state barge, but the procession 
on the river has been abandoned. 

Passing through Cheapside, Fleet Street, the Strand, and 
Charing Cross in going to Westminster, the procession re¬ 
turns to Guildhall by the way of the new Embankment, and 
in the evening a magnificent banquet is given, at which the 
Prime Minister usually makes an important speech outlining 
his policy and future intentions. This banquet is given by 
the city, and it generally costs about $50,000. On other 
occasions the expenses of the banqueting are borne by the 
Lord Mayor and the sheriffs, the former paying half, and the 
latter one fourth each. 


1883. The Mayors Hospitality. 255 

The most arduous duties of the mayor are those of hospi¬ 
tality. If any public fast is ordered by the Crown, he and 
the Corporation attend St. Paul’s Cathedral in black robes; 
but on occasions of thanksgiving they appear in scarlet. If 
an address is to be presented to the Throne, the corporation 
goes in state, and the Lord Mayor wears a gown of gold cloth. 
On Easter Monday and Easter Tuesday he attends Christ 
Church, the sanctuary connected with the famous school, 
Christ’s Hospital, and all the scholars in their blue gowns 
and yellow stockings, with masters, beadles, and clerks, walk 
in procession before him. On Easter Monday, also, he gives 
the grandest dinner of the year in the Egyptian Hall, at the 
Mansion House, which is attended by royalty and followed by 
a ball. On Easter Tuesday, before going to church, he pre¬ 
sents a purse, containing fifty guineas, in sixpences, shillings, 
and half-crowns, to the boys of Christ’s Hospital, who pass 
before him through the Mansion House, each receiving a 
piece of silver (fresh from the mint), two plum-buns, and a 
glass of wine. It is said that in these degenerate days the 
boys do not appreciate the honor so much as they ought 
to do. 

“ One benefactor of the school,” Mr. Pascoe tells us in his 
book, “ Everyday Life in our Public Schools,” “ left a legacy 
on condition that a certain number of boys should receive a 
pair of gloves, to be worn in the various processions at Easter¬ 
tide. On these gloves were to be printed the words, ‘ He is 
risen.’ The gloves, it may be mentioned, are still given, but 
in place of being absurdly printed on them, the words are 
displayed on a paper badge worn on the left breast. . . . 
Sixpences are excellent in their way; but it is a trifle absurd 
to find well-grown lads, headed by beadles, walking in a pro¬ 
cession through the streets of London with scraps of paper 
pinned to their breasts bearing the legend, ‘He is risen.’ 
And as for the gift of pence and plums, for many years it has 


256 Young Folks History of London. 

been considered by the boys themselves an indignity to be 
selected to receive them.” 

Then his lordship entertains the judges at dinner; then the 
sons of the clergy, and then the bishops. On the 28th of 
September he swears in the sheriffs, and two days later pro¬ 
ceeds with them in state to Westminster, where they are once 
more sworn in. 

The rights and privileges of the mayor are like the sover¬ 
eign power over the state. He has the badges of royalty 
attached to his office — the sceptre, the swords of justice and 
mercy, and the mace. The gold chain, one of the most an¬ 
cient distinctions, is worn by him for life. He controls the 
city purse, and has the right of precedence in the city before 
all the royal family. Royalty itself cannot enter the city 
until his formal consent has been granted, and soldiers can¬ 
not march through the city until his permission has been ob¬ 
tained by the commander-in-chief. He enjoys the right of 
private audience with the Crown, he is summoned as a privy 
councillor on the death of the monarch, and the Tower pass¬ 
word is regularly sent to him. He has a veto upon the 
Courts both of Aldermen and Common Council, as well as 
upon the Court of Livery in Common Hall, none of these 
courts being able to meet unless convened by him, and he 
can at any time dissolve any or all of the courts mentioned 
by removing the sword and mace from the table and de¬ 
claring the business at an end; though when exercised this 
is considered an ungracious display of power. 

There are many quaint observances about the office, and 
many of the vassals bear titles peculiar to themselves. Thus 
there are three “ sergeants of the chamber,” one “ yeoman of 
the chamber,” a “ master of ceremonies,” a “ sergeant of the 
channel,” a ‘‘yeoman, of the channel,” two “yeomen of the 
waterside,” a “deputy water-bailiff,” a “water-bailiffs first 
young man,” a “ water-bailiffs second young man,” a “ com- 





GOG AND MAGOG, 























































. 


























































































* 

































Hi i. Gog and Magog . 259 

mon hunt’s young man,” and a “ sword-bearer’s young man.” 
This reminds us of the song in Patience; but the persons who 
bear these appellations of youth are usually old and choleric, 
and alder manic in proportions. 

Guildhall is in the American sense the “ city hall ” of 
London, while the Mansion House is the official residence 
of the mayor. The former was built in 14n, and survived 
the Great Fire, though the roof and outbuildings were burned. 
In it are the two famous figures of Gog and Magog. 

The Emperor Diocletian, says the old legend, had thirty- 
three infamous daughters, who murdered their husbands, and 
being set adrift in a ship, reached Albion, where they fell 
in with a number of demons. The offspring of this unnat¬ 
ural alliance was a race of giants afterwards extirpated by 
Brute and his companions, refugees from Troy. Gog and 
Magog, the last two of the giant race, were brought in fetters 
to London, then called Troy-novant or Trinovant, and being 
chained to the palace of Brute, which stood on the site of 
Guildhall, did duty as porters. 

Here we have an echo of the old fable of the foundation 
of London by the descendants of vEneas mentioned in our 
first chapter. But the true origin of Gog and Magog is 
unsettled. Formerly one was called Corinaeus and the other 
Gogmagog. The latter name is now divided between them. 
The existing figures were carved in fir-wood in 1707 by 
Richard Saunders, and are accepted as symbols of the 
dignity of the city. 

The hospitalities of the mayor are divided between the 
Guildhall and the Mansion blouse, the grand dinner on the 
9th of November being given in the former, where the feast¬ 
ing is not less extensive than at the latter. 

The most distinguished Lord Mayor previous to Whitting¬ 
ton was Sir William Walworth, to whom we have already re¬ 
ferred. But Whittington himself towers above all who, before 


260 Young Folks' History of London. 

his time or since, have held the office, and to him we shall 
devote a separate chapter. 

Another worthy Lord Mayor was John Philpot (1378), 
who distinguished himself by his patriotism and gallantry. 
During his administration the Channel and the North Sea 
became unsafe to merchant vessels, owing to the depredations 
of a piratical fleet under a Scotchman named Mercer. Find¬ 
ing that the Government would not, or could not, put this 
marauder down, John Philpot fitted out a fleet at his own ex¬ 
pense, and sailed forth with a thousand men to chastise the 
pirate. He found him off Scarborough, and engaged him in 
battle, defeating him and capturing his ships, with which he 
sailed in triumph to the Nore. Mercer was slain, and all 
who had ships at sea were grateful for being relieved of this 
scourge ; but the king, ever wanting a pretext for taking his 
subjects’ money, demanded to know why Philpot had ven¬ 
tured on the expedition without royal permission, and, pre¬ 
tending to be dissatisfied with his answer, fined him for 
contempt. 

In less than a year the king was again in want of money, 
and Philpot generously advanced it to him, and provided him 
with a fleet for his expedition into France. 

Whittington was mayor in 1396, 1397, 1406, and 1419 — 
twice in the reign of Richard the Second, once in that of 
Henry the Fourth, and once in that of Henry the Fifth. 
Twenty-seven years after his final administration, the Lord 
Mayor was Sir Simon Eyre, who is principally remembered 
for a joke which he played on the Worshipful Court of 
Aldermen. 

The latter wanted him to stand for sheriff, but he excused 
himself, on the ground that his income was not sufficient to 
allow him to grace the office. “ How is this?” they said. 
“ Have you not boasted that you break your fast every day 
upon a table for which you would not take a thousand 
pounds?” 




1 537 • 


Sir Richard Gresham. 


261 


Sir Simon invited them home to dinner, and when they 
reached his house he asked his wife to “ prepare the little 
table ” and set some refreshments before the guests. She 
would have refused, but as he would not take her excuse, she 
seated herself upon a low stool, and spread a damask napkin 
over her knees, with a venison pasty thereon. 

“Behold/’ exclaimed Sir Simon, “the table for which I 
would not take a thousand pounds.” The legend adds that 
the spectators were astonished, and it is likely that they 
thought the joke, as we do, pretty far fetched. 

After Philpot, Walworth, and Whittington, the most illus¬ 
trious Lord Mayor, perhaps, was Sir Richard Gresham, a. d. 
1 5 3 7. He was the father of the founder of the Royal Ex¬ 
change, and one of his daughters married an ancestor of the 
Marquis of Bath, while one of his brothers became related to 
the Duke of Buckingham and Lord Braybrooke. Sir Richard 
became a Gentleman Usher Extraordinary to Henry the 
Eighth, and when the monasteries were abolished by that mon¬ 
arch, a part of their lands were given to him. He advocated 
the establishment of an Exchange (an idea which his son car¬ 
ried out), encouraged freedom of trade, and is said to have 
invented bills of exchange. When Cardinal Wolsey lost the 
favor of the King, Gresham stood by the unhappy prelate, 
and one of the few things we know to the credit of Henry 
the Eighth is that he did not abandon the Lord Mayor be¬ 
cause the latter remained loyal to one who had fallen from 
grace. 

Many of the Lord Mayors began life humbly. Sir Samuel 
Fludyer is said to have been a stable-boy, and yet he became 
connected with several noble families. His second wife was 
granddaughter of a nobleman and a niece of the Earl of Car¬ 
digan. His sons married into the Montague and Westmore¬ 
land families, and among his descendants are connections of 
the Earls Onslow and Brownlow. 


262 Young Folks History of London. 

In 1762 and 1769 the Lord Mayor was William Beckford, 
who, though he inherited riches, was descended from a 
tailor. He was a friend of Lord Mansfield and the Earl of 
Chatham. His son wrote that extraordinary work of poetic 
imagery and caustic wit, “ Vathek,” which the author is said 
to have produced at one sitting. “ It took me,” he has 
stated, “ three days and two nights of hard labor. I never 
took off my clothes the whole time.” A granddaughter of 
the Lord Mayor and daughter of the novelist became the 
Duchess of Hamilton. Lord Mayor Kennet (1780) had 
been a waiter, and his character never rose above that level. 
Even when he was chief magistrate it was a byword that if a 
bell was rung Kennet would answer it from force of habit. 

Vainglory has not been missing among these magnates 
who have overcome the obstacles of their youth, but it has 
not often been so bluntly expressed as by Sir Peter Laurie 
(1832-3). He was entertaining the judges and leaders of 
the bar, and at his side sat Lord Tenterden. Waving his 
hand towards the latter during an after-dinner speech, Sir 
Peter said : “ See before you the examples of myself, the 
chief magistrate of this great empire, and the Chief Justice of 
England sitting at my right hand, both now occupying the 
highest offices of the State, and both sprung from the very 
dregs of the people !” Lord Tenterden was, indeed, the son 
of a barber and wig-maker, but he must have winced at hear¬ 
ing his parents described as the “very dregs of the people.” 
Lord Mayor Kelly was a bookseller’s boy who used to sleep 
under his master’s counter, and Lord Mayor Pirie, a great 
shipowner, also began life friendless and penniless. 

An amusing account is given by Mr. Edward Walford in 
his Londoniana of Sir William Staines, Lord Mayor in 1800. 
He began life, like Ben Jonson, as a bricklayer, and so far 
from being ashamed of it, he often told his friends of his early 
experiences. When quite a young man he happened to be 


i8oo. 


A Prophetic Dream. 


263 


employed upon some repairs at the parsonage house at Ux¬ 
bridge. As he was going up the ladder one day with his hod 
and mortar, he was accosted by the parson’s wife, who told 
him that in the previous night she had been visited by an 
extraordinary dream ; for that as she lay asleep she dreamt 
that he would one day, like Dick Whittington, wear a gold 
chain as Lord Mayor of London. Taken aback at the story, 
and astonished at hearing such a prophecy, young Staines 
could only thank the lady for telling him of such a promo¬ 
tion awaiting him in the future. But he had neither money 
nor friends, nor had he received more than the very poorest 
education; so he put away the thought of rising in the great 
city world, and gradually forgot the prophecy. 

The clergyman’s wife, however, was not easily to be turned 
from her dream, which had made a great impression upon 
her. Her mind was fixed on the young bricklayer, and she 
resolved that what she had dreamed should come true. 
Moreover she dreamed the same dream again, and again 
repeated it to Staines, who left Uxbridge carrying it in his 
mind. Bit by bit he rose to be a master-bricklayer, and then 
a builder, and by the time he reached middle-age he had a 
fortune. At last the dream was fulfilled, and when Sir Wil¬ 
liam became Lord Mayor he made the lady’s husband his 
chaplain. 

Perhaps it is not to his discredit that he married his cook- 
maid ; and we have a pleasant picture of him sitting among 
his friends in the days of his honor and affluence, and dis¬ 
coursing between the puffs of his pipe on the jobs he had 
done as a bricklayer. The stone-work of a bath in the City 
Road was done by him, and he often boasted of this as one 
of his best works. 


Here lies Sir Richard Whittington, thrice Mayor, 

And his dear wife, a virtuous loving pair; 

Him fortune raised to be beloved and great, 

By the adventure only of a cat. 

Let none that read it of God’s love despair, 

Who trusts in Him, He will of him take care. 

But growing rich, chuse humbleness, not pride ; 

Let these dead virtuous persons be your guide. 

Epitaph on Whittington's Tomb. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


RICHARD WHITTINGTON. 

According to the old story, Dick Whittington was an out¬ 
cast boy, born in Somerset, who travelled about the country 
living upon the charity of well-disposed persons, till he grew 
up to be a fine sturdy youth, when he resolved to go to Lon¬ 
don, having heard that its streets were paved with gold. 

Not knowing the way, he followed the carriers, and at night, 
for the little service he did them in rubbing their horses, they 
gave him a supper. 

Arrived in London, he wandered about, weary and faint, 
and at last went to a merchant’s house, begging for food. 
The ill-natured cook threatened to kick him from the door, 
saying, “ If you tarry here, I will kick you into the kennel.” 
At first Mr. Fitzwarren, whose house it was, also ordered the 
poor boy away; but seeing his pitiable condition, the mer¬ 
chant relented, and told the cook to give him employment as 
a scullion. 

Though he was thus saved from starvation, Dick’s lot con¬ 
tinued to be a hard one. Mistress Alice, Fitzwarren’s daugh¬ 
ter, took an interest in him,but the more she favored him, the 
crueller the cook used him. Even at night he was not left 
in peace, for the attic in which he was put to sleep was in¬ 
fested with rats, which ran over his face ; and so his condition 
was a sorry one indeed. One day, however, he purchased a 
cat, and relieved himself of one of his miseries. 

Now it was the custom of Mr. Fitzwarren to call his ser¬ 
vants together when he sent out a ship, and to cause every 


266 


Young Folks' History of London. 


one to venture something in it. When Whittington was 
asked what he would contribute to the voyage, he fell upon 
his knees, desiring the others not to jeer at him, since all he 
could offer was his cat. 

Mistress Alice offered to lay something down for him, but 
her father told her that it was his custom to accept nothing 
except articles which belonged to the persons contributing 
them. Dick, therefore, surrendered his cat to the master of 
the ship, which was called the “ Unicorn,” and he sorrowfully 
saw his pet carried away to sea. 

We need not relate how the ship was driven by contrary 
winds on to the coast of Barbary, where there was a kingdom 
overrun with rats, which were not only offensive at the King’s 
table, but also in his chamber, where he had to be guarded 
from them. The supercargo then bethought himself of Whit¬ 
tington’s cat, and told the King that he had an English beast 
in the ship that would rid all the Court of the vermin quickly. 
The King desired to see this surprising creature, saying, “ For 
such a thing I will load your ship with gold, diamonds, and 
pearls.” 

This large offer made the master endeavor the more to 
enhance the cat’s merits. He said : “ She is the most admir¬ 
able creature in the world, and I cannot spare her, for she 
keeps my ship clear of rats, which otherwise would destroy 
all my goods.” But his Majesty would take no denial, saying, 
“ No price shall part us.” 

The cat being sent for, and the tables spread, the rats came 
as before. Then she fell to immediately, and killed them all 
in a trice ; afterwards purring and curling up her tail before 
the King and Queen, as if asking a reward for her service. 

A bargain was concluded, the King giving ten times more 
for the cat than for all the rest of her cargo, and the “ Uni¬ 
corn ” returned to England with more riches than ever any 
ship had brought before. 




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RICHARD WHITTINGTON 


























































































I 35 °- 


Errors Concerning Whittington . 


269 


When Whittington was made to understand his great good 
fortune, he fell upon his knees and praised Almighty God, 
who had vouchsafed to behold so poor a creature in the 
midst of his misery. Then, turning to his master, he laid 
his riches at his feet; but Fitzwarren said : “ No, Mr. Whit¬ 
tington ; God forbid I should take so much as a ducat from 
you. May it be a comfort to you.” Then Whittington 
turned to Mistress Alice, but she also refused the treasure; 
upon which, bowing low, he said unto her, “ Madam, when¬ 
ever you please to make choice of a husband, I will make 
you the greatest fortune in the world.” 

He now began to distribute his bounty to his fellow-ser¬ 
vants, giving even his mortal enemy, the cook, one hundred 
pounds for her portion; and he also distributed his bounty 
very plentifully to all the ship’s crew. 

Prosperity continued to attend him, and Mistress Alice 
soon became his wife. 

Such is the old legend, condensed from an old pamphlet; 
but Messrs. Rice and Besant have superseded this story with 
a rational biography of this illustrious man, which, if it is less 
romantic, is as full of encouragement to an ambitious lad as 
the fable. 

Whittington was ?iot an outcast boy who knew neither father 
nor mother, and who supported his pitiable life by rubbing 
down the horses of the carriers ; he did not wander, starving, 
to London, and was not driven from Fitzwarren’s door by 
the termagant cook; nor did Mistress Alice, the merchant’s 
pretty daughter, find it necessary to protect the poor lad 
from that odious virago; he was not hired as a scullion, nor 
beaten on the head with his own pots and pans; and if he 
heard Bow Bells singing “Thrice Lord Mayor of London” 
to him, they were as untrustworthy as the clock which struck 
thirteen, for he was Lord Mayor four times. But to pass 
from the legend to history, he became rich, though he started 


2JO 


Young Folks History of London. 

poor, he did marry Mistress Alice, and it is not at all un¬ 
likely that his change of fortune was brought about by a cat. 
The evidence concerning his origin was not easily procured. 



His name was not an uncommon one, and yet in his time 
there were no parish-registers. But he bore a coat-of-arms, 
and from it the primary clue to his identity was obtained. 
















































!35°- 


Whittington's Origin. 


271 


The crest was a bee or a May-fly. Now the same coat-of- 
arms — with the difference that instead of a bee the crest was 
a lion’s head —was borne by a family, also named Whitting¬ 
ton, whose history can be clearly traced. There is no doubt 
that this family was his family, and it is probable that he 
changed the crest to symbolize the patient toil by which suc¬ 
cess is obtained, if it is a bee, or to symbolize the uncer¬ 
tainty and ephemeral nature of human happiness, if it is a 
gold-tipped May-fly. This, however, is not the only evi¬ 
dence of his connection with the family alluded to. The 
Whittingtons had an estate in Pauntley, Gloucestershire, a 
small village consisting of the church, a manor-house, and a 
few scattered cottages. In the north windows of the chancel 
of the church still exist the remains of ancient stained glass, 
on which are emblazoned the arms of the Whittingtons with 
those of the families into which they intermarried; while in 
the west window under the tower are found the arms of the 
Whittingtons impaling those of the Fitzwarrens. It is cer¬ 
tain that the great Sir Richard married Alice Fitzwarren; 
and his connection with the Whittingtons of Pauntley is thus 
clearly established by the emblazoned arms in the old church 
window. 

The head of the family in 1350 was Sir William Whitting¬ 
ton, and he married in 1352 or 1353 the widow of Sir Thomas 
de Berkeley, who became the mother of three sons, named 
respectively William, Robert, and Richard, the latter being 
the youngest. The ordinary ideas about Whittington’s ori¬ 
gin are thus shown to be groundless. His father was a knight 
and his mother a lady, and he had all the advantages good 
birth could bestow. His father died in 1360, and the estate 
became the property of his eldest brother, William. 

What followed is thus explained by Mr. Walter Besant: “ I 
find a country lad, the youngest of three ; his eldest brother 
succeeds to the property; the second stays on the estate; 


272 Young Folks History of London. 

the third shall be sent to London and apprenticed, not to a 
handicraft, but to an honorable trade; not to a meanly-born 
tradesman, but to a man of good old west-country stock, such 
as Fitzwarren was. To him the boy shall be sent; he has 
promised to receive him into his service. He will take care 
that the slender portion of the youngest son shall not be 
wasted; he will teach the boy the mystery of buying and 
selling; he will launch him into the great world. 

At the age of thirteen, then, and somewhere about the year 
1371, the lad was sent up to London to seek his fortune in 
the usual way, by apprenticeship and honorable trade. 

. Would the widow of Sir William let her boy set off 
for London unbefriended and helpless? Nothing more cer¬ 
tainly disputes the old theory about young Dick Whittington 
than this fact, that he was apprenticed to a Fitzwarren.” 

Fitzwarren himself was a younger son of the great house of 
that name which came to England with the Conqueror, and 
in being apprenticed to him Whittington was in no sense 
degraded. The children of the best families often came to 
London to seek their fortune in trade under similar auspices. 

Then in regard to the cat various learned interpretations 
of the legend have been made. Most antiquarians have 
laughed at it, and Dr. Lysons was the first to declare that it 
was not only possible, but also probable. 

His book shows that in some countries cats had a very 
great value, and he quotes an early, traveller in South Guinea, 
who tells that his expedition was seriously harassed by rats, 
which devoured parrots alive, and bit the men, and stole their 
clothing. Under such circumstances it can be imagined that 
a cat would be greatly prized. 

In the middle ages tame cats were scarce in Europe, and 
high prices were paid for them. One Alphonso, a Portu¬ 
guese, was wrecked on the coast of Guinea, and the mice 
were so troublesome to the people there, that he received his 


1460. 


The Legend of the Cat. 


273 


weight in gold for a cat. He improved his good fortune 
there so rapidly, that within five years he was worth a great 
sum of money, and when he returned to Portugal he was the 
third richest man in the kingdom. 

Again, the first Spanish cat ever taken to South America 
was purchased by a companion of Pizarro for six hundred 
pieces of gold; and the folklore of nearly all countries has a 
person similar to Whittington in it. Another explanation of 
the “ cat ” is that it is a corruption of the French word achat, 
a purchase. According to this, Whittington made a purchase 
which he afterwards resold to great advantage, and so people 
attributed his fortune to “ a cat,” which is as nearly as pos¬ 
sible like what the pronunciation of achat would be. 

Still another suggestion is that the ships employed in the 
carriage of sea-coal to London were called “ cats,” so that a 
“ cat ” full of coal may have been the foundation of Whitting¬ 
ton’s fortune. But the vessel that bore this name was copied 
from Norwegian models, from five to six hundred tons bur¬ 
den, and there is little probability that ships as large as this 
were built in Whittington’s time. ' 

A genuine cat was beyond a doubt associated with Whit¬ 
tington’s fortunes, and the legend has corroborative evidence 
in the portraits of him, and also in the buildings which he 
gave to the city. There used to exist in Mercers’ Hall a por¬ 
trait of him, dated 1536, in which he was represented as a 
man about sixty years of age, having at the left hand a black 
and white cat. There are earlier monuments still, which con¬ 
nect the great merchant with the cat. His executors pulled 
down and rebuilt the jail of Newgate, in conformity with his 
will, and until the Great Fire his statue, with a cat, remained 
in a niche on one of the gates. 

There is yet more evidence. The Whittingtons had a 
house in Gloucester which they occupied until 1460, and 
when, twenty years ago, some changes were being made in the 

18 




274 Young Folks History of London. 

ancient building, a basso-relievo was found representing the 
figure of a boy carrying in his arms a cat. The workmanship 
appears to be of the fifteenth century, and if it is of that time, 
it is proof that the family of Whittington, in his own time, 
believed in the cat story. 

But Mr. Besant will not accept the sentiment with which 
Dr. Lysons idealizes the tradition. He does not believe that 
there was any extraordinary attachment between Dick and 
his pet, nor that the boy shed tears when he parted with her. 
“ As boys are now, so they were then. Let us regard Whit¬ 
tington as a healthy, honest lad, who would be no more in¬ 
clined to cry over a cat than a boy of his age would cry over 
one now. And there is one thing very suspicious. If cats 
were precious, how did he, being as poor as Dr. Lysons 
would make him, get possession of one? And seeing how 
great was the value of a cat in those lands whither the ship 
was bound, is it unreasonable to suppose that he invested 
what money he could spare in sending one out for sale ? 
Whittington’s first small success was made by a little venture. 
The sailors told him about the rats and mice; he bought a 
cat and sent it out. It was the shrewd venture of a clever 
boy, and the cat sold well. Then he made other ventures, 
always with profit, and gratefully ascribed his first success to 
his lucky cat.” 

His gifts to the city were as wise as they were generous, 
and his hospitality was magnificent. In his last term of of¬ 
fice he entertained Henry V. and the Queen, and the banquet 
was one such as few monarchs could have invited a guest to 
sit down to. Even the fires were fed with cedar and per¬ 
fumed wood. When Katharine spoke of the costliness of 
the fuel, Lord Mayor Whittington said that he proposed to 
feed the flames with something still more valuable, and there¬ 
upon he threw into the fire the King’s own bonds, to the 
amount of sixty thousand pounds,— a sum at that time equal 


1423 - A Compliment to the King. 275 

to $7,250,000 of our present money ! The King, astonished 
at being thus relieved of his debts, exclaimed : “ Surely never 
had king such a subject! ” To which Whittington gallantly 
replied, “ Surely never had subject such a king ! ” 

Whittington, as we have said, was Lord Mayor in 1396, 
1397, 1406, and 1419. He gave great sums of money to 
charity, and died, an example of the model Christian mer¬ 
chant, in 1423, when he was sixty-five years of age. 




Sir Mannerly. Well, did any one ever see the like! What a brave 
place is this London! It is, as the song says, the finest city that ever 
I saw in my life. 

Booby. Oh, ’t is a brave place ! ’T is not a city ; ’t is a great coun¬ 
try, all o’ houses. 


Old Play. 





CHAPTER XVII. 


THE TRADE-GUILDS OF LONDON. 

The principal aim of the trade-guilds of London when they 
were established was to exclude all but their members from 
carrying on the business or trade which they represented, 
and they exercised their authority with a good deal of sever¬ 
ity. They protected the industries from foreigners, but they 
did not protect the artisan from his employer. In no sense 
were they what the “ trades-union ’’ of workmen is now. 
Attempts were made by the journeymen to form themselves 
into companies for the good of wages, but in the end all these 
combinations were put down. 

“ A seven years’ apprenticeship,” says Mr. J. R. Green in 
his “ Short History,” “ formed the necessary prelude to full 
membership of any trade-guild. The regulations were of the 
minutest character: the quality and value of work were rig¬ 
idly prescribed, the hours of toil fixed from 'daybreak to 
curfew,’ and strict provision was made against competition in 
labor. At each meeting of the guilds their members gath¬ 
ered around the craft-box which contained the rules of their 
society, and stood with bared heads as it was opened. The 
warden and a quorum of guild brothers formed a court which 
enforced the ordinances of the guild, inspected all work done 
by its members, and confiscated unlawful tools and unworthy 
goods; disobedience to their orders was punished by fines, 
or in the last resort by expulsion, which involved the loss of 
right to trade. A common fund was raised by contributions 
among the members, which not only provided tor the trade 


278 Young Folks History of London . 

objects of the guild, but sufficed to found chantries and 
masses, and erect painted windows in the church of their 
patron saint. Even at the present day the arms of the craft- 
guild may often be seen blazoned in cathedrals side by 
side with those of prelates and of kings.” 

None of the trades was without its patron saint. The Fish¬ 
mongers adopted St. Peter and met at St. Peter’s Church; 
the Drapers chose the Virgin Mary, mother of the Holy 
Lamb or Fleece, as the emblem of their trade; the Gold¬ 
smiths’ patron was St. Dunstan, who was said to have been 



ANCIENT WINDSOR CASTLE. 

one of their craft, and the Merchant Taylors adopted St. 
John the Baptist, who was the harbinger of the Holy Lamb. 
In other cases the Companies named themselves after the 
saint in whose chapel they worshipped. The Grocers called 
themselves the fraternity of St. Anthony, because they had 
an altar in St. Anthony’s Church; and from a similar connec¬ 
tion with St. Martin’s Church the Vintners called themselves 
the fraternity of St. Martin’s. In their processions to church 
the Companies were joined by the religious orders, singing 
and bearing wax-tapers, and they were frequently attended by 
the Lord Mayor and the great civic authorities in state. 
























1883. ' Functions of the Guilds. 279 

Respecting the provisions made against the competition of 
one trade with another, Mr. Besant says that when the Cob¬ 
blers and the Cordwainers quarrelled, it was ruled that no 
person who worked on old shoes should meddle with new 
shoes, and that no person who worked on new should med¬ 
dle with old ones. 

The wardens had great powers, of which an account has 
been given in Chapter II. 

There are now over eighty separate guilds, and sixteen of 
these have halls of their own. The twelve great Companies 
are the Grocers, the Mercers, the Drapers, the Fishmongers, 
the Goldsmiths, the Skinners, the Merchant Taylors, the 
Haberdashers, the Salters, the Ironmongers, the Vintners, and 
the Cloth-workers. Among the extinct companies are the 
Silkmen, the Pin-makers, the Soap-makers, the Hatband- 
makers, the Long-bow-string makers, the Wood-makers, the 
Starch-makers, and the Fishermen. 

Few of the Companies which still exist have much to do 
with the trades which they are supposed to represent, and 
the principal duties of their officers consist in the manage¬ 
ment of worthy charities and the exercise of a profuse hospi¬ 
tality during civic celebrations. 

The Goldsmiths and Apothecaries, however, still control 
their trade, and have the right of search and of marking 
wares; the Stationers have the privilege of exacting a fee 
for registering copyrights; the Gunmakers are empowered to 
look after the quality of all the guns made in the city, and 
the Saddle-makers to look after the saddles; the Painters 
issue a price-list which has authority, and the Pewterers and 
Plumbers are privileged to make assays. Some of the Com¬ 
panies retain the right of excluding others than their mem¬ 
bers from the trades which they represent, and among these 
are the Apothecaries, the Brewers, the Pewterers, the Builders, 
the Barbers, the Saddlers, the Paint-Stainers, the Plumbers, 


280 


Young Folks History of London . 


the Innholders, the Founders, the Poulterers, the Cooks, the 
Weavers, the Scriveners, the Farriers, the Spectacle-makers, 
the Clock-makers, the Silk-throwers, the Distillers, the To¬ 
bacco-pipe-makers, and the Carmen. 

But there are threats of depriving all the ancient guilds of 
their privileges, and of making them render up an account of 
their treasure. They have fallen into ill-odor. Their halls 
have been called “ shrines of gluttony,” and it is said their 
immense income — about five million dollars annually — 
finds its way into other pockets than those for which it was 
originally intended. They once served the public interests. 
They secured skilled workmanship and protected buyers from 
the adulterations of dealers who were inclined to be dishon¬ 
est. It was the careful training of apprentices insisted upon 
by the guilds which gave English workmen the supremacy 
they long held; and it was one of the conditions upon which 
the charters of these associations were granted that they 
should look after the public interests. But now, it is coni' 
plained, they collect their revenues and make no return for 
their privileges. The inspection of goods has to be done at 
the expense of the ratepayers; no standard is enforced either 
for the character of workmanship or for the purity of materials, 
and the members no longer belong to the trades which these 
Companies severally represent. 

The Companies are composed of two classes, freemen and 
liverymen. Freedom may be acquired by servitude, patri¬ 
mony, or redemption. Servitude formerly meant apprentice¬ 
ship to a working craftsman and the acquirement of a practi¬ 
cal knowledge of his calling; but now it can be obtained by 
apprenticeship to a member, whether the latter belongs to a 
craft or not. Freedom by patrimony means freedom by 
inheritance, and freedom by redemption may be acquired by 
the payment of a sum of money. The only privilege the free¬ 
men have is participation in the bounty of their companies. 





COURT OF ALDERMEN, GUILDHALL 







































































































1883. 


A Profitable Office . 


283 


The liverymen are elected from among the freemen, and 
are of a higher grade than the latter. They are entitled 
to wear the livery of the Companies, to partake of the feasts, 
and to vote at the parliamentary elections for the -City of 
London. They also have vested in them the election of the 
sheriffs and some other corporation officials, and the nomina¬ 
tion of the Lord Mayor. When a vacancy occurs, a livery¬ 
man is elected to fill it, but he is chosen not by his associate 
liverymen, but by the governing body, which is self-electing. 
The latter is called the Court of Assistants, and the mem¬ 
bers are responsible only to themselves, and are sworn to 
secrecy. 

Good things, it has been said, culminate when a man is 
elected to the Court of Assistants. He is paid a handsome 
salary, and if he serves on a committee he is paid extra. He 
attends a sumptuous dinner at least once a week, and is paid 
for that too. His relatives may be educated gratuitously in 
the splendid schools maintained by the Companies, and pro¬ 
vided with scholarships at the Universities. When they grow 
up, the inexhaustible funds of the Companies are again used 
for them. The patronage of the member of the court is not 
restricted to them, however. He can also feed and clothe 
in almshouses of the Company a large number of poorer and 
more distantly related pensioners. 

It is not to be wondered at, then, that a seat in the Court 
of Assistants is a coveted prize, nor that, as the court is a 
self-electing body, the members of it usually choose relatives 
to fill the vacancies in it that occur. Some time ago it was 
admitted before a parliamentary committee that of thirty-four 
members of the Fishmongers’ court, twenty-two were con¬ 
nected with each other by blood, marriage, or business part¬ 
nerships. 

Now considering the vast wealth belonging to the Compa¬ 
nies which has accumulated from property bequeathed to 


284 Young Folks History of London. 

them in trust, and from taxes imposed for services which they 
no longer perform; considering, also, the perversion of the 
original purpose of the charters, which was to protect the pub¬ 
lic from adulterations and inferior work, and to encourage 
honest craftsmen; considering that the funds of the Compa¬ 
nies have fallen into the hands of persons who do not belong 
to the trades which they claim to represent, and who admin¬ 
ister the money with notorious extravagance,— considering 
these facts, it is not unlikely that the guilds will be “ pilled 
and shaved,” as the old chronicler hath it, for a better pur¬ 
pose than satisfying the needs of an improvident king, as they 
were when the weeping monk of Bee was building the Tower 
of London. 

Sir John Bennett, the watchmaker, once said, in homely 
language, that some of the Companies were like flies in a 
treacle-pot — they could not move for wealth ; ” and when 
an alderman was asked what they did with their enormous 
income, he apologetically explained that they only spent 
about thirty per cent of it for eating. Only thirty per cent 
of it! That is about one million five hundred thousand 
dollars a year. Some of it goes for charity, however, and the 
beneficiaries of this part are worth some mention. They in¬ 
clude extensive almshouses and schools, and funds for the 
support of decayed members, for the relief of the poor, for 
exhibitions to the Universities, for the amelioration of the 
condition of persons in city jails, and for lectures and ser¬ 
mons. Small sums are also provided to start young begin¬ 
ners in business. The charities are not all located in London 
or its neighborhood. Some of them are as far away as Ire¬ 
land, where some of the Companies have large estates. 

The form of the benefactions is sometimes very curious. 
r I he 1 )rapers’ Company supports five almshouses, three 
schools, and several funds for pensions. It also has a fund 
for providing marriage portions to certain women. The 









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1561. The Merchant Taylors School. 287 

Goldsmiths’ Company has eighteen different charities under 
its direction, and the Haberdashers’ Company has thirty, in¬ 
cluding funds out of which loans are made to the poor, aid 
is given to the prisoners in Newgate, preacherships are en¬ 
dowed, and gifts are made to poor debtors. The Mercers’ 
Company has twenty-nine charities connected with it, includ¬ 
ing one for paying the fees of apprenticeships, another for 
poor debtors, another to help young men starting in business, 
and another for loans. The Stationers’ Company has one 
fund to provide liverymen and freemen with an overcoat, and 
others for the benefit of compositors and pressmen. The 
officers of the Fishmongers’ Company stated to a parliamen¬ 
tary commission that they disbursed about ten thousand 
pounds, or $50,000, annually in charities, and as this was 
more than twenty years ago, the amount is probably much 
larger now. 

No little good is also done in the way of education by 
these wealthy guilds, and the Merchant Taylors’ School stands 
as high as any in England. It was founded in 1561, when a 
leading member offered a sum equivalent to about $15,000 of 
our money towards the purchase of a part of the manor of the 
Rose, in the parish of St. Lawrence Poulteney. The Rose 
was a spacious mansion originally built by Sii John Poulteney, 
five times Lord Mayor of London in the reign of Edward III. 
After passing through the hands of the Hollands, the De la 
Poles, the Staffords and Courtenays, it was granted to the 
Ratcliffe or Sussex family. The name of the street, Suffolk 
Lane, from which it is entered, and of the parish, still recalls 
its former occupants. Ducksfoot Lane, in the vicinity, was 
the Duke of Suffolk’s foot-lane or private pathway from his 
lordship’s garden. Shakespeare speaks of 

“ The Du-ke being at the Rose, within the parish 
Saint Lawrence Poultney.” 



288 Young Folks History of London. 

The ancient premises were destroyed in the Great Fire ot 
1666, and they were rebuilt by Wren in 1675. 

By the original statutes of 1651 it was ordained that the 
high-master should be “ a man in body whole, sober, discreet^ 
honest, vertuous, and learned in good cleane Latin literature, 
and also in Greeke yf such may be gotten.” In 1566 the 
school was greatly helped by Sir Thomas White, a member of 
the Company, who founded St. John’s College at Oxford, and 
appropriated no less than forty-three of the fellowships for 
scholars of the Merchant Taylors’, putting it on a plane with 
Eton, Harrow, and Westminster. Two hundred and fifty 
boys were to be educated, and of these one hundred were to 
be free. 

The first headmaster was Richard Mulcaster, who wrote 
Latin plays which the boys acted before Queen Elizabeth, 
and of his severe manners Fuller has left us an amusing 
account: “ In a morning he would exactly and plainly con¬ 
strue and parse the lesson to his scholars, which done he 
slept his hour (custom made him critical to proportion it) 
on his desk in the school; but woe be to the scholar that 
slept the while. Awakening, he heard them accurately, and 
Atropos might be persuaded to pity as soon as he to pardon 
where he found just fault.' The prayers of cockering mothers 
prevailed with him as much as the requests of indulgent 
fathers, rather increasing than mitigating his severity on their 
offending children.” 

Mulcaster quarrelled with the Merchant Taylors’, and after¬ 
wards wielded the “ wonderful fruit-bearing rod ” at St. Paul’s 
School. 

Mr. Pascoe tells us that the Merchant Taylors’ is richer in 
its scholarships than any other school in the United Kingdom, 
with one exception ; but the only part of its history which is 
interesting is the record of its illustrious graduates. Fore¬ 
most among the latter was William Juxon, Bishop of London, 


i88 3 . 


Educational Endowments. 


289 


and after the Restoration, Archbishop of Canterbury, who 
faithfully attended Charles the First on the scaffold. Ten 
other bishops were likewise educated at the Merchant Taylors,’ 
including Andrewes, Bishop of Winchester during the reign 
of James the First. 

Andrewes and the Bishop of Durham were one day in 
presence of the monarch, when he demanded, “ My lords, 
cannot I take the money of my subjects when I want it, with¬ 
out all this formality in Parliament?” 

The Bishop of Durham readily answered, with courtier-like 
acquiescence in the royal will, “ God forbid that you should 
not; your Majesty is the breath of our nostrils.” 

The King then turned to Andrewes : “ What say you, my 
lord? ” 

“ I am no judge of parliamentary cases,” the Bishop 
replied. 

“ No put-offs ! ” petulantly rejoined his Majesty ; “ answer 
me at once.” 

“ Then, sir,” added Andrewes, “ I think it quite lawful for 
you to take my brother of Durham’s money, as he offers it.” 

The Merchant Taylors’ School has given up its old quar¬ 
ters in Suffolk Lane, and now occupies the monastic buildings 
of the Charterhouse in Smithfield, the Grayfriars of Thackeray, 
whose scholars are provided for out of the bounty of Thomas 
Sutton, in handsome new buildings at Godaiming, Surrey. 

As a sop to the public, which is becoming suspicious of 
the City Companies, several of the latter have recently com¬ 
bined to establish an institution for the advancement of tech¬ 
nical education, and about $50,000 a year will be spent in 
this way. But the wardens and courts of assistants who have 
so many fat perquisites may tremble, for their tenure of office 
is insecure. The wealth they control is held to be a public 
trust which they are misusing, and very soon, no doubt, it 
will be taken out of their hands. 


l 9 


2 90 


Young Folks History of London . 


The guilds are not what they were, nor what they were in¬ 
tended to be. The benevolent feeling in its true sense does 
not inspire them. Formerly, when plates and dishes were 
considered luxuries, and forks were unknown, baskets of 
wicker-work were placed beside each guest’s seat, and frag¬ 
ments of the feast were thrown into them for the poor. The 
poor were ever present at the rejoicings. The receptacles 
were % called “ void baskets,” and frequent allusions to them 
occur in the old dramatists. At the present time, in another 
form, the custom still exists. It now takes the shape of costly 
bonbons , which are carried home by the guests for their wives 
and children. The hospitality of the Companies is truly mag¬ 
nificent. Even the railway fares of guests coming from a dis¬ 
tance are paid by these lavish entertainers; but the beauty of 
the hospitality is lost when we remember that the persons 
who dispense it are using money which does not belong to 
them. 

We have not yet said anything about the halls of the Com¬ 
panies, which are among the most interesting of the city’s an¬ 
tiquities. Originally each Company had only a large room to 
meet in, but afterwards, as the duties and uses of the guild 
became onerous and extensive, other apartments were added 
to the building. 

One of the earliest was the Goldsmiths’, built in 1502, 
which rivalled in extent and beauty Westminster Hall, the 
palace of the king. 

Most of the halls which existed before or near the Refor¬ 
mation seem to have been formed out of the deserted man¬ 
sions of the great. Drapers’ Hall was the mansion of Lord 
Cromwell, and it still retains its fine gardens. Salters’ Hall 
was the town seat of the Earls of Oxford, and the Grocers 
built on the site of Lord Fitzwalter’s town mansion. The 
minor Companies in several instances bought the halls of the 
dissolved religious houses, the Leather-sellers taking the house 





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1466. 


293 


Ancient Use of the Hall . 

of the nuns of St. Helen’s, the Pinners the house of the Aus¬ 
tin Friars, and the Barber-Surgeons the Hermitage of St. 
James. 

As the guilds advanced in wealth and influence, every hall 
was required to have connected with it a granary and an 
armory; apartments were provided for decayed members, 
and there was always a room for the almsmen to assemble in 



CRYPT IN GUILDHALL. 


when called upon to join in processions and pageants. Then , 
again, there were offices in which the almsmen, pensioners, 
and poor of the commonalty were relieved, and large spaces 
were required for the storage of the allegorical devices used 
in the annual pageants. 

The most valuable contents of the building were the arti¬ 
cles of silver plate which belonged to the guild, for it was a 
custom of the members to bequeath drinking-cups, salvers, 















294 Young Folks History of London. 

and goblets of “ sylver, sylver guylte, parcel guylte, or sylver 
white.” * In the records of the Goldsmiths’ Company, for 
instance, we find many such entries as these : 

“ 1466 — A standing cuppe of sylver with a cover weigh¬ 
ing XXIV ounces troy, given by Thomas Swetanham, grocer. 
Jh’u be merciful unto his soul ! ” 

“ 1467 — Of the gyfte of John Godyn, grocer (Jh’u have 
mercy on his soul !), a standinge cuppe, the cover of sylver, 
and alle gylte with roses and sonnes, weighing XXXI ounces. 

“1467 — Of the gyfte of Sir John Howard, Knyghte, a 
standing cuppe, and cover of sylver, and alle gylte, weying xvj 
ounces and half troy weighte. God send him long life and 
welfare.” 

The modern halls are more sumptuous than those of the 
olden time, but very little of their furniture is paid for out of 
the pockets of members of the guild, and instead of having 
varied uses, as in the past, they are reserved almost exclusively 
for feasting. There are thirty-five halls in the city, and in 
1873 the estimated value of the buildings was ^287,800. 

Goldsmiths’ Hall, Foster Lane, in the rear of the General 
Post-Office, is the finest of all, and is the third hall which has 
stood upon the site. It was built between 1832 and - 1835, 
and is in the Italian style of the seventeenth century. The 
west front, which is one hundred and eighty feet wide, has 
six Corinthian columns, some of the blocks in which weigh 
from ten to twelve tons each, and the columns support a rich 
entablature and cornice. An entrance door of ornamental 
metal leads into the hall and staircase, which are lined with 
costly marbles of different colors. The windows are of stained 
glass, the walls are decorated with paintings, and the corners 
are filled with statuary. The great banqueting-hall is a mag¬ 
nificent apartment, with a range of Corinthian pillars on both 
sides. The five lofty arched windows are filled with the 


Fishmongers Hall. 


I ^33- 


295 


armorial bearings of eminent goldsmiths of past times, and 
at the north end is an alcove for the display of plate. 

The Company’s plate is of course remarkably valuable. 
It includes a chandelier of chased gold, weighing one thou¬ 
sand ounces; two old gold plates having on them the arms 
of France quartered with those of England; and a gold cup 
out of which Queen Elizabeth is said to have drunk at her 
coronation. 

This Company is authorized, and it still exercises its power, 
to see that every article manufactured of gold and silver is up 
to its proper standard; and to it, also, belongs the “ trial of 
the pix,” a curious proceeding of great solemnity, which takes 
place every year. The “ trial of the pix” is a test of the 
purity and weight of the money coined at the mints. The 
wardens of the Company are summoned to form a jury, and 
having received a charge from the Lord Chancellor, they re¬ 
tire into the court room of the Duchy of Lancaster, where the 
“ pix ” is delivered to them. The pix is a small box, and it 
contains the coins which are to be examined. A number of 
coins are taken at random from a large quantity, and these 
are assayed by the jury, who certify to their perfection 
or imperfection, delivering their verdict in writing to the 
Chancellor. 

Where the handsome Anglo-Greek building of the Fish¬ 
mongers’ Company, at the west side of the foot of London 
Bridge, stands to-day, that guild has had a stronghold ever 
since the reign of Edward the Third. This is the third build¬ 
ing, and was erected between 1830 and 1833. Hare says of it: 
“ It is one of those huge palaces of dignified repose which 
are such a feature of the city.” It is imposing, but solid 
comfort rather than luxury characterizes the interior. The 
rooms are lofty and spacious, and the great hall is rich in 
wood-carving and armorial bearings. 

In one of the rooms is a capacious chair, made out of the 


296 Young Folks History of London. 

first pile that was driven in the construction of Old London 
Bridge. The seat of the chair is made from a part of the 
stone upon which the pile rested, and according to all ac¬ 
counts the pile and stone together were under water for 
upwards of six hundred and fifty years. 

A plate on the back bears this inscription : “ This chair 
was made by J. Ovenston, 72 Great Titchfield Street, London, 
from a design furnished by the Rev. William Joliffe, Curate 
of Colmer, in Hampshire; and it was made entirely from 
wood and stone taken up from the foundation of Old London 
Bridge, in July, 1832, having remained there 656 years, being 
put down, in June, 1176, by the builder, Peter, a priest, who 
was Vicar of Colechurch; and ’tis rather curious that a priest 
should begin the bridge, and, after so long a period, that a 
parson should clear it entirely away.” 

Upon the seat the following words are cut: “ I am part 
of the first stone that was put down for the foundation of Old 
London Bridge, in June, 1176, by a priest named Peter, who 
was Vicar of Colechurch in London; and I remained there 
undisturbed, safe on the same oak piles this chair is made 
from, till the Rev. William John Joliffe, Curate of Colmer, 
Hampshire, took me up in July, 1832, when clearing away 
the old bridge after New London Bridge was completed.” 

The hall also contains a large number of portraits of kings 
and queens and benevolent liverymen; and of curiosities, 
there is the identical dagger with which that most eminent 
Fishmonger, Sir William Walworth, slew Wat Tyler at Smith- 
field. 

In Fishmongers’ Hall Canning made a famous speech : 
“ Gentlemen, we are invited here to meet the Fishmongers. 
Now the Fishmongers have dealings with a very large com¬ 
munity, from whose habits I think they might learn something. 
I mean the community of fishes. The fish is one of the most 
uncommunicative animals in creation; it says nothing, and it 


! 56 i - Chigm of the Mercers' Company. 297 

drinks a great deal. Let us, then, on the present occasion, 
as we are to some extent brought into their company, imitate 
their habits. Let us not waste our time in talking, but let us 
drink a good deal.” 

Mercers’ Hall is in Ironmongers Lane, Cheapside, and 
on the site of the present entrance from Cheapside stood 
the house of Gilbert a Becket, father of Thomas. After the 
murder of the great Archbishop, his sister Agnes and her hus¬ 
band erected a chapel and hospital on the same spot. These 
were destroyed by the Great Fire, and ip their place a hall for 
the Mercers was built, the front of which is ascribed to 
Wren. Here may be seen the original documents relating 
to some of Whittington’s charities, and portraits of that 
worthy and of many other distinguished Londoners. 

A note may be made here of the origin of this Company. 
The word “ mercer ” in ancient times was the name of a 
dealer in small wares, and not, as afterwards, a vender of silks. 
Merceries then comprehended all things sold at retail by the 
“ little balance,” in contradistinction to things sold by the 
beam or by the gross, and they included not only toys, 
haberdashery, and various articles connected with dress, but 
also spices and drugs and all that at present constitutes the 
stock of a general shopkeeper. 

The Mercers frequented the fairs and markets. Afterwards 
the silk trade formed the main feature of their business, 
though it was divided with “ the silk women and throwsters 
of London,” who in petitioning for their charter in the reign 
of Henry the Sixth prayed “ that the Lombards and other 
strangers might be hindered from importing raw silk into 
the realm, contrary to custom, and to the ruin of the mystery 
and occupation of silk-making and other virtuous female 
occupations.” In 1561 the Mercers were generally known 
as dealers in silk. 

Merchant Taylors’ Hall is appropriately in Threadneedle 


298 


Young Folks' History of London. 


Street, and is a spacious but irregular edifice of brick. The 
banqueting-room is larger than any other, and has a stately 
screew and music gallery. The windows are of stained glass, 
and the walls are emblazoned with the arms of the members. 

The present hall was built after the Fire on the site of a 
much older one which was the scene of a splendid festival 
given by the Merchant Taylors to James the First and Prince 
Henry. On this occasion a child “ delivered a short speech 
containing xviii verses, devised by Mr. Ben Jonson,” and a 
ship was hung aloft in the hall containing “ three rare men 
and very skilful, who sang to his Majesty.” One of the 
songs of the “ three rare men in the shippe ” so pleased the 
King, that he made them repeat it three times. Another ac¬ 
count says : “ The three menne were dressed like saylers, 
being eminent for voyce and skill, who in their severall 
songes were assisted and seconded by cunning lutanists. 
There was also in the hall the musique of the cittie, and in 
the upper chamber the children of his Majestie’s Chappel 
sang grace at the King’s table, and also whilst the King sate 
at dinner, John Bull, Doctor of Musique, one of the organists 
of His Majestie’s Chappel Royal, being in a citizen’s cappe 
and hood, played most excellent melodie uppon a small payre 
of organs, placed there for that purpose onely.” 

From Merchant Taylors’ Hall began the famous calvacade 
of archers belonging to the Company, which mustered three 
thousand men, more than nine hundred of whom wore chains 
of gold around their necks. They were escorted to the butts 
by over four thousand whifflers and billmen, and the proces¬ 
sion was one of the most imposing ever seen in the city. 

The origin of the name “ Merchant Taylors or Tailors ” is 
said to have been in the vanity of the craft. As the wealth 
of the members grew, they became ashamed of their calling, 
and attached to themselves the prefix of “ Merchant,” to 
which, in a strict sense, they were not entitled. Their busi- 



PROCESSION OF BILLMEN AND ARCHERS 


































































































































































1672. Celebrated Merchant Taylors . 301 

ness was a handicraft, and not like that of the Mercers, of 
whom they were jealous, mercantile. Their vainglory is fre¬ 
quently noticed by writers of the seventeenth century. Pepys 
speaks of having purchased a “ History of the Merchant Tay¬ 
lors’ Company,” which he found so absurd and ridiculous that 
he threw it aside in disgust. The title of the book was : “The 
Honor of the Merchant Taylors : wherein are set forth the 
valiant deeds and heroic performances of merchant tailors in 
former days, their honorable loves and knightly adventures, 
their combating of foreign enemies and glorious successes in 
honor of the British nation; together with their pious acts 
and large benevolences, their building of public structures, 
especially that of Blackwell Hall, to be a market place for 
selling woollen cloths.” 

But, in fact, many celebrated men have been connected 
with the Company. Among these may be mentioned Sir 
John Hawkwood, who was the son of a tailor in Manningtree, 
where he was born in the time of Edward the Third. He was 
afterwards sent up to London and apprenticed to a tailor, 
but when grown up he was pressed into the army and sent 
abroad, where “ his genius, which had been cramped and 
confined to the shop-board, soon expanded and surmounted 
the narrow prejudices which adhered to his birth and educa¬ 
tion. He signalized himself as a soldier in France and Italy, 
and particularly at Pisa.” But his history is mixed up with 
fable, and his power is reputed to have been more like that 
of a fairy hero than of an ordinary mortal. 

It matters little now, however, whether the Taylors are 
recognized as members of a handicraft or as dealers, buying 
and selling,— the distinction of which they were jealous in 
olden times,— for the Company has few tailors in it. It 
indeed repudiates with disgust the idea that members of that 
highly useful but unaristocratic craft should be allowed a 
place in it, says Mr. William Gilbert in his book, “ The City 


302 Young Folks History of London . 

as it is.” “ Possibly,” that writer adds, “ the best example 
which could be given of the objectionable features to be found 
in many of our city guilds may be remarked in the Merchant 
Taylors. In their records may be found specimens of the 
most abject debasement before the powerful when the guild 
itself was weak, and the utmost arrogance when the members 
were rich and imagined themselves strong.” This is not 
characteristic of the Merchant Taylors alone, however, but 
represents the attitude of the city itself in its dealings with 
the Crown during the centuries when the kings regarded it 
as a mint which could be levi.ed upon as often as the royal 
exchequer needed replenishing. 

The Drapers’ Hall is in Throgmorton Street, adjoining the 
Bank of England, and is a modern building on the site of a 
much older one. Everything is new, solid, comfortable, and 
costly. Most interesting of the contents are the portraits, 
among which is one of the Queen of Scots. Her little son, 
who became James the First of England, is painted with her. 
This picture is said to have been thrown over the wall into 
the Drapers’ garden during the Great Fire, and never claimed 
afterwards. 

Grocers’ Hall is in Grocers’ Hall Court, Poultry, an insig¬ 
nificant street near the Bank, which was formerly called 
Conningshop Lane, i. e. Cony Shop Lane, a name derived 
from the sign of three conies hanging over a poulterer’s shop. 
r l he hall is the third edifice which the Company has had 
upon “ solde grounde sume tyme the Lord Fitzwalter’s 
Halle,” and when the present building was erected, between 
1798 and 1802, the old garden was divided into two, one 
half being appropriated by the Bank of England, which paid 
the Company $100,000 for it. Centuries before, the Com¬ 
pany had bought this land for $150. 

The Grocers were originally called Pepperers, and there is 
no authentic account of how they acquired the former name. 


i57i- 


DisJwriest Tradesmen . 


303 


One writer says, “ It is derived from their having dealt in 
grossi, or figs.” Ravenhill says that it was first adopted to dis¬ 
tinguish the members who sold in gross quantities from infe¬ 
rior traders who sold by retail. The same writer attributes 
the early prosperity of England’s foreign trade to the Grocers, 
who were “the most universal merchants who traded abroad.” 

The Company was responsible for the quality of drugs and 
all articles sold in their trade; and the city records contain 
many instances of the energy with which the wardens per¬ 
formed the duties assigned to them. For example, in 1571, 
Rauf King, a brother of the Company, “ and certain other 
makers of comfytes, were charged before the wardeyns for 
their misdemeanors in minglinge starche with sugar, and 
such other things as not to be tolerated nor suffered. And 
the said Rauf King having now in his place a goode quantity 
of comfytes made with coarse stuffe and mingled, as afore¬ 
said, with starche and such like,” it was ordered that the 
comfits should be put into a tub of water, and so consumed 
and poured out, and that “ evrie of said comfyte makers shall 
be made to enter into bonds in ^20 that they shall not here¬ 
after make any biscuits but with the clere sugar onlie, nor 
make any comfytes that shall be wrought upon seeds or any 
other thing but clere sugar onlie.” 

The city also required that two grocers and two ironmon¬ 
gers “ should stand at Bishopsgate all day to see that no one 
passed through wearing any dress that his position did not 
entitle him to wear.” 

Skinners’ Hall, No. 8 Dowgate Hill, was rebuilt after the 
fire. In the pediment of the front are the Company’s arms, 
and the frieze is ornamented with festoons and leopards’ 
heads. The drawing-room is lined with odoriferous cedar, 
carved and enriched. The dining-room, recently rebuilt, is 
in the Italian style, and has an Ionic gallery for musicians. 
The election of officers of this Company is conducted in a 


304 


. Young Folks History of London. 


curious fashion, which is thus described by Mr. Herbert in 
his “ History of the City Companies : ” “The principals being 
assembled on the day of election, ten blue-coat boys with the 
almsmen and trumpeters enter the hall. Three large silver 
cocks or fowls, so named, are then brought in and delivered 
to the Master and Wardens. On unscrewing these pieces ot 
plate they are found to form drinking cups, filled with wine, 
from which the Master and Wardens drink. Three caps ot 
maintenance are then brought. The old Master tries on the 
first, and finding it will not fit, gives it for trial to those next 
to him; failing to fit any of them, it is then given to the in¬ 
tended new Master, and on its duly fitting he is announced 
with acclamations Master elect. Like ceremonies are repeated 
with the other caps on the Wardens.” 

Vintners’ Hall, in Upper Thames Street, was rebuilt after 
the Fire, and is one of the most interesting buildings in the 
locality. There is in one of the antechambers a fine piece 
of tapestry representing St. Martin of Tours, the patron 
saint of the Company, and in the court-room above the fire¬ 
place there is a painting of St. Martin Dividing his Coat with a 
Beggar, which has been attributed to Rubens. The Company 
possesses a magnificent salt-cellar in silver gilt by Cellini, and 
the oak carving of the hall is unusually good. 

There are a number of other halls, which we can only refer 
to in the briefest way. 

The Apothecaries’ Company has a hall in Water Lane, 
Blackfriars, and is one of the few city guilds which fulfil the 
purpose for which it was founded, of overlooking the business 
which it represents. The hall was built in 1670, and adjoin¬ 
ing it are warehouses, laboratories, and drug-mills. The Com¬ 
pany is authorized to license students, and a long black dark 
alley is called by the latter the “ funking room,” because in 
it they are kept waiting before they are ushered into the 
presence of their examiners. 


1 557* 


Gifts to the Armorers. 


305 


In Coleman Street is the hall of the Armorers’ Company, 
founded by Henry the Sixth as the “ brothers and sisters of 
the guild ot St. George.” The building is modern, but it pos¬ 
sesses, says Augustus Hare, “ one of the most glorious collec¬ 
tions of old plate in England,” including a cup given in 1557, 
an “ owl pot” given in 1537, a tankard given in 1574, and 
various other articles. Armor having gone out of use, the 
Company fell into decay, but it was revived in the reign of 
Queen Anne by a union with the Braziers’ Company, since 
which “ We are one ” has been its motto. 

The Barber-Surgeons’ Hall in Monkwell Street, Aldersgate, 
contains a number of historical curiosities, but its most valua¬ 
ble possession is Holbein’s picture of Henry the Eighth giv¬ 
ing a Charter to the Company. Pepys was anxious to obtain 
this for “ a little money,” and speaking of an examination of 
it, says : “ I did think to give jf 200 for it, it being said to be 
worth ^1000; but it is so spoiled that I have no mind to it, 
and it is not a pleasant, though a good, picture.” A curious 
leather screen in the court-room is said to commemorate the 
gratitude of a man who, after being hung at Tyburn, was dis¬ 
covered to be still living, and was restored by the efforts of 
the Barber-Surgeons when his body was brought to them for 
dissection. Hare states that such a recovery did occur in 
the case of a youth, aged seventeen, who after having been 
hung for twenty-two minutes, recovered just as the surgeons 
were about to cut him up. 

In a safe nook by itself, abutting on that nest of booksellers, 
Paternoster Row, and under the shadow of St. Paul’s Cathe¬ 
dral, is Stationers’ Hall, which hides itself, as Mr. Walter 
Thornbury has said, with the characteristic modesty of an 
author. For some time this Company had a monopoly of 
learning. A man could not follow the trade of a printer un¬ 
less he had served his time to a member of the Company, 
and nearly every publication had to be “entered at the Hall,” 


20 


306 Young Folks' History of London. 

in order to secure the copyright,-—a law which is still in force. 
The Company had the exclusive right of publishing almanacs, 
and though it no longer retains this privilege, it sends forth 
annually thousands of copies of “Old Moore’s Almanac,” 
with its nonsensical astrological tables describing the moon’s 
influence on various parts of the human body ! 



GUARD CHAMBER, LAMBETH TALACE. 


The pictures in the hall are full of interest to a student of 
literature. There are portraits of Prior and Steele which 
formerly belonged to Harley, the Earl of Oxford; of Samuel 
Richardson and his wife ; of Archbishop Tillotson by Knel- 
ler, and of Bishop Iloadley, the prelate who wore the Order 
of the Garter. 

The smoky little garden at the back of the Hall was used 
















































































































































































I 35°- 


The Watermen. 


307 


in the time of the Star Chamber for the burning of seditious 
publications, and the Archbishop of Canterbury sent constant 
messages to the Master and Wardens, requiring them, on 
pain of the penalties of the Church and forfeiture of all tem¬ 
poral rights, to search every house in which they suspected a 
press to exist for the printing of unlawful matter. 

From earliest times the Stationers’ Company has been cele¬ 
brated for its shows, and “ the comeliest personages ” of the 
guild attended the Lord Mayor on horseback, in velvet 
coats, chains of gold, and with staff-torches, to escort Queen 
Elizabeth from Chelsea to Whitehall. The Company had 
until recently a gilt barge, in which, on the morning of Lord 
Mayor’s Day, the members visited Lambeth Palace, when the 
household of the Archbishop of Canterbury provided hot 
spiced ale, buns and cakes, and wine, the last being served 
in “ sack-cups,” or bowls with two handles. The almanacs 
published by the Company were submitted to the Archbishop 
for his approval, and the friendship between the Guild and 
the See is said to have originated in the time of Arch¬ 
bishop Tenison, one of whose relatives was Master of the 
Company. 

The hall of the Watermen’s Company is at Billingsgate. 
This guild dates from the fourteenth century, and for many 
generations its members had a monopoly of the navigation of 
the Thames. Then, more than at the present time, the river 
was a highway for passengers travelling east or west through 
the city; what the cab, the omnibus, and the Underground 
Railway do now in transporting the crowd from London Bridge 
to Westminster, the waterman did with his barge and wherry, 
and though a goodly number of passengers still choose the 
“ silent highway,” and find conveyance in the uncomfortable 
little steamers which ply between Chelsea and Gravesend, they 
are less numerous in proportion to the population than when 
the land vehicles were less convenient than they are now. 


308 Young Folks History of London. 

In the time of Henry the Eighth there were forty thousand 
watermen on the Thames between Windsor and Gravesend, 
and we learn that their boats were “ dangerously shallow and 
tickle.” They were conscious of the power of their guild, 
these old watermen, and were rank monopolists, opposing 
every change or improvement which threatened to reduce 
their profits, though a public benefit was to be accomplished 
thereby. They were greatly dissatisfied with the introduction 
of coaches, and condemned the building of bridges across the 
river, not because they did not recognize that coaches and 
bridges were useful things, but simply because such additions 
to the conveniences of the city would curtail their earnings. 

They had a vigorous champion in old Taylor, the water 
poet. He tells us that 

“ When Queen Elizabeth came to the crown, 

A coach in England then was scarcely known,” 

and in a prose tract he complains bitterly of the innovation 
which would take the traffic from the river to the streets. 
“ I do not inveigh against any coaches that belong to persons 
of worth or quality,” he quaintly writes, “but only against the 
caterpillar swarm of hirelings. They have undone my poor 
trade whereof I am a member; and though I look for no re¬ 
formation, yet I expect the benefit of an old proverb, ‘.Give 
the losers leave to speak.’ ” He adds that the swarm of 
“ trade-spillers,” the contemptuous name he applies to 
coaches, have “ so overrun the land, that we can get no 
living on the water, for I dare truly affirm, that every day in 
every term, especially if the Court be at Whitehall, they do 
rob us of our livings, and carry five hundred sixty fares daily 
from us.” He contrasts the quietness of the stream with the 
noise of the street. “ I pray you look into the streets, and 
the chambers or lodgings in Fleet Street or the Strand, how 
they are pestered with coaches, especially after a mask or 


1580-1654- John Taylor, the Water Poet . 


309 


a play at the Court, where even the very earth quakes and 
trembles, the casements clatter, tatter, and shatter, and such a 
confused noise is made, so that a man can neither sleep, 
speak, hear, write, nor eat his dinner or supper quiet for them.” 
What would John Taylor think of the noise of the Strand, 
could he visit it to-day, when its thousands of cabs and om¬ 
nibuses fill the ear with the sounds of unceasing volleys of 
musketry — how degenerate he would consider the age ! 

Taylor was himself a waterman working for his daily bread ; 
but his works, which are published in a folio of six or seven 
hundred pages, have a great deal of vigor. He varied his 
toil with long journeys to distant parts of the country in a 
small boat, as a modern canoeist might do, and he took no 
little pride in his occupation. 

“ I have a trade, much like an alchemist, 

That ofttimes by extraction, if I list, 

With sweating labors at a wooden oar 
I ’ll get the coin’d, refined, silver ore; 

Which I count better than the sharping tricks 
Of cozening tradesmen or rich politicks, 

Or any proud fool, ne’er so proud or wise, 

That does my needful, honest trade despise.” 

The river was very different from what it is now when the 
watermen flourished. It was more of a common highway 
than the streets were, and no pageant was celebrated that did 
not appear on it. It was, says Knight, especially the royal 
road. When Henry the Seventh willed the coronation of his 
Queen Elizabeth, she came from Greenwich attended by 
barges “ freshly furnished with banners and streamers of silk,” 
and when Henry the Eighth was married to Anne Boleyn she 
was brought by all the crafts of London from Greenwich to the 
Tower, “ trumpets, shawms, and other divers instruments all the 
way playing and making great melody.” A volume of the 
“ Purse Expenses of Henry VIII.” contains item upon item of 
sums paid to watermen for waiting with barge and boat. The 


3 10 


Young Folks History of London. 


barge was evidently always in attendance upon the Iving, and 
the great boat was ever busy moving household stuff and ser¬ 
vants from Westminster to Greenwich or Richmond. 1 here 
is also a record of payment to “ John, the King’s Bargeman, 
for coming twice from Greenwich to \ork Place with a gieat 

boat with books for the King.” 

“ In the time of Elizabeth and the first James and on¬ 


ward to very recent days, the north bank oi the lhames was 
studded with the palaces of the nobles, and each palace had 





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lift 

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SALISBURY AND WORCESTER HOUSE. 


its landing-place, and its private retinue of barges and wher¬ 
ries ; and many a freight of the brave and the beautiful has 
been borne, amid song and merriment, from house to house 
to join the masque and the dance ; and many a wily statesman, 
muffled in his cloak, has glided along unseen in his boat, to 
some dark conference with his ambitious neighbor. Nothing 
could then have been more picturesque than the Strand with 
its broad gardens and lofty trees and embattled turrets and 
pinnacles. Upon the river itself, busy as it was, fleets of 
swans were sailing, and they ventured unmolested into that 



















































































i 7 1 5- Doggett's Coat and Badge. 311 

channel which is now narrowed by vessels from every 
region.” 

The river was full of fish, moreover, even salmon, and when 
the waterman was tired of waiting for his fare he could push 
into the stream and find good sport with drag-net or rod and 
line. It was a glorious craft this to which he belonged, lucra¬ 
tive, pleasant to exercise, and not without honors,— for a cer¬ 
tain number of them were enrolled in the Royal Navy. They 
formed a caste by themselves, and recognized their kinship 
with one another by being buried together when they died. 

Their manners were extremely saucy, and they had a phra¬ 
seology of their own, which has been called “ the water dialect 
or mob language.” It will be remembered that Sir Roger de 
Coverley was shocked by the language with which they greeted 
him, and when Dr. Johnson was assailed by their abuse he 
replied to them with an equal vigor. 

One of the most interesting events at the present time in 
connection with the watermen is the race on the first of 
August,, every year, to compete for a coat and badge be¬ 
queathed by Thomas Doggett, the comedian, to commemo¬ 
rate the accession of the House of Brunswick. “This scene,” 
a genial writer has said, “ is sure to be picturesque and cheer¬ 
ful should it be lit up by the glorious sun that ‘ gems the sea 
and every land that blooms.’ In 1715, the year after George 
the First came to the throne, Doggett, to quicken the indus¬ 
try and raise a laudable emulation in our young men of the 
Thames, whereby they may not only acquire a knowledge ol 
the river but a skill in managing the oar with dexterity, gave 
an orange-colored coat and a silver badge, on which was 
sculptured the Hanoverian house, to the successful candidate 
of six young watermen just out of their apprenticeship, to be 
rowed for on the first of August, when the current was strong¬ 
est against them, starting from the ‘Old Swan,’ London 
Bridge, to the ‘ Swan ’ at Chelsea.” 


312 Young Folks' History of London. 

This competition is annual, and other prizes are added to 
the coat and badge. But the glory of the craft is departed, 
and the watermen of to-day are deck-hands and pilots of the 
sooty little steamers which ply up and down for the accom¬ 
modation of penny passengers. 

Close to Watermen’s Hall is the Fellowship Porters’ Hall, 
belonging to the guild of that name which was incorporated 
as early as 1155. The business of the fellowship porters is to 
carry and warehouse corn, salt, coals, fish, and fruit, and they 
number about fifteen hundred. In accordance with an old 
custom, every Sunday before midsummer’s day a sermon is 
preached to them in the church of St. Mary-at-Hill. They 
proceed from the hall, two by two, carrying nosegays and 
walking up the middle aisle to the communion table, where 
each of them places an offering for the relief of the poor. 
After prayers, the merchants of the neighborhood, who have 
been provided with nosegays by the porters on the previous 
night, repeat the observance by also walking up to the altar 
with their wives, servants, and children, and placing a gift on 
the plate. 

Carpenters’ Hall, which survived the Great Fire, is in Lon¬ 
don Wall, but it is not especially interesting. This Company, 
however, continues the curious custom of crowning the new 
masters and wardens when they are elected, and the garlands 
used for the purpose are more than three centuries old. 

We have already mentioned Drapers’ Hall and its contents, 
but a word may be said about the dress or livery of this Com¬ 
pany, which seems to have been more varied than that of any 
other. The celebrations also were many and curious. Annu¬ 
ally at Lady Day all the members, dressed in new livery, went 
to Bow Church and there heard the Lady Mass, each con¬ 
tributing a silver penny to the altar-plate. This is not the 
church whose bells are said to have inspired Dick Whitting¬ 
ton, but St. Michael’s, CornhilL The former is St. Mary-le- 


The Drapers Banquets. 3 13 

Bow, Cheapside. At evensong the members again attended 
the church and heard dirges chanted for deceased members. 
On the following day, with continued devotion, they came 
and heard the mass of the Requiem, and offered another sil¬ 
ver penny. On the day of the feast they walked two and two 
in livery to the dining place, where there was a banquet of 
fowls, swan, geese, pike, venison, conies, pigeons, tarts, pears, 
and filberts. At the side-tables ale and claret were served in 
pots and wooden cups, and better wine in gilt cups. After 
dinner the retiring master rose and went into the parlor, with 
a garland on his head and his cap-bearer before him. He 
then chose the master for the following year, the choice hav¬ 
ing been pre-arranged; and in a similar manner the old war¬ 
dens chose the new ones, offering a garland to several persons, 
one among whom accepted it according to a preconcerted 
plan. The business being over, dessert was served in the 
lavish manner which characterizes all the civic feasts. 

From the list of articles consumed we gather that the appe¬ 
tites were wonderfully good when the livery companies saw 
their palmiest days. The feasting seems to have been intro¬ 
duced on all possible occasions, and even the funerals, 
according to old English custom, ended with a dinner. 
Spiced bread, fruit, and ale were served either at the church 
or at a neighboring tavern, and on one occasion a silver spoon 
was given to each of the pall-bearers. 

The Drapers’ ordinances, says Mr. Thornbury, to whom we 
are in the main indebted for this account, were of great inter¬ 
est. The apprentices, on being enrolled, paid fees, which 
went to a fund called “spoon silver,” and when they misbe¬ 
haved themselves they were severely punished. Thus one of 
them, named Needswell, was taken into the hall parlor on a 
certain day and flogged by two tall men, disguised in canvas 
frocks, hoods, and visors, two pennyworth of birchen rods 
being expended in his improvement. 


314 Young Folks History of London . 

The Clothworkers’ Company is an offshoot of the Mer¬ 
chant Taylors’, and was incorporated by Edward the Fourth as 
the “ Fraternity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary 
of the Shearsmen of London.” The title of shearsmen had no 
reference to the cutting of wool from the sheep, but applied 
to the manner of clipping the nap of the cloth. The Cloth- 
workers had several subdivisions, and among the others were 
the Fullers, the Burrelers, and the Testers. Pepys himself was 
a member of this Company, which was incorporated in the 
time of Elizabeth, and left it a valuable loving-cup, which still 
shines on the table when great dinners are given. The guild 
was indeed a most distinguished one, and two centuries ago 
it was referred to as follows : — 

“ The grandeur of England is to be attributed to its golden 
fleece, the wealth of the loom making England a second Peru, 
and the back of the sheep, and not the entrails of the earth, 
being its chief mine of riches. The silkworm is no spinster 
of ours, and our wheel and web are wholly the clothworkers. 
Thus as trade is the soul of the kingdom, so the greatest 
branch of it lies in the clothworkers’ hands; and though our 
naval commerce brings us in both the or and the argent , and 
indeed the whole wealth of the world, yet, when thoroughly 
examined, it will be found’t is your cloth sends out to fetch 
them. And thus, whilst the Imperial Britannia is so formi¬ 
dable to her foes and so potent to her friends, to the Cloth¬ 
workers’ honor it may justly be said, ‘ ’T is your shuttle nerves 
her arm, and your woof that enrobes her glory.’ ” 

“'Wilt thou make me free of the Clothworkers ? ” said 
James the First to Sir William Stone, the master of the Com¬ 
pany. “ Yea,” quoth the latter, “ and think myself a happy 
man that I live to see this day.” Then the King said : “ Stone, 
give me thy hand, and now I am a Clothworker.” 

The original hall was burned in the Great Fire, and was a 
mass of flame for three days and nights. The present hall is 


i88 3 . 


Illustrious Members. 


315 


very fine, and among the decorations is a picture of young 
Edward Osborne, the ancestor of the Duke of Leeds, who, 
when an apprentice, jumped from London Bridge to save his 
master’s daughter. 

Here we must close, leaving undescribed a number of 
other halls which will repay the visit of any one interested in 
the city’s antiquities. Sooner or later the guilds will all be 
abolished. But at present they are making a stubborn re¬ 
sistance to the radical spirit which would dissolve them. 
They have many friends among the rich and great, and it 
has been the custom from the beginning for kings, princes, 
and statesmen of the realm to be honorary members of 
them. 

The Prince of Wales is an honorary Fishmonger and an 
honorary Haberdasher ; the Duke of Edinburgh, the Duke of 
Connaught, the Duke of Cambridge are also honorary mem¬ 
bers of Fishmongers’ Hall. Sir Stafford Northcote is an hon¬ 
orary Goldsmith, and Lord Beaconsfield was an honorary 
Merchant Taylor. The guilds choose influential men to 
receive their honors, and their hospitality, also, is showered 
upon those who can appreciate it. 


“London is the place for me. Its smoky atmosphere and muddy 
river charm me more than the pure air of Hertfordshire and the 
crystal currents of the Rib. Nothing is equal to the splendid varieties 
of London life, the fine flow of London talk, and the dazzling brilliance 
of London spectacles.’' 


Macaulay. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


THE BANK OF ENGLAND. 

If the visitor minds not delays and has no urgent business 
to make him fret against the encumbered streets, it is a pleas¬ 
ant walk from the Tower up through Eastcheap to the Bank 
of England. The Boar’s Head has vanished from Eastcheap, 
but the imperishable memory of that famous tavern, where 
Prince Hal, Jack Falstaff,and their companions met, will draw 
reverential pilgrims to it as long as Shakespeare is read. 

“ That ancient region of wit and wassail,” Irving calls it, 
“for it was always famous for its convivial doings. ‘The cookes 
cried hot ribbes of beef roasted, pies well baked, and other 
victuals; there was clattering of pewter pots, harpe, pipe, 
and sawtrie.’ Alas ! ” adds Irving, “ how sadly is the scene 
changed since the roaring days of Falstaff and old Stow ! 
The madcap roisterer has given place to the plodding 
tradesman; the clattering of pots and the sound of ‘ harpe 
and sawtrie ’ to the din of carts and the accursed dinging of 
the dustman’s bell; and no song is heard save, haply, the 
strain of some siren of Billingsgate chanting the eulogy of 
deceased mackerel.” 

Even the sign which was built into the parting line of two 
houses which stood on the site of the renowned old tavern is 
gone ; but, for all that, no one whose nature is tender enough 
to feel the charm of historic association will turn away from 
Eastcheap, or think of it without recalling Jack Falstaff. 

Eastcheap empties into King William Street, and thence it 
is a straight line up to a nearly triangular space, on the three 



318 Voting Folks History of London. 

sides of which the civic power of London and the deities of 
riches and commerce are enthroned. On the south side is 
the Corinthian portico, with its six fluted columns, of the 
Mansion House; opposite to this is the portico of the Royal 
Exchange, — a more beautiful building, with columns forty 
feet high and a sculptured frieze and architrave ; and on the 
third side is the Corinthian temple —“ incombustible, insu¬ 
lated, one-storied, and without external windows”—of the 
Bank of England, or, as the greatest monetary institution of 
the world is sometimes called, “The Old Lady of Thread- 
needle Street,” — a name given to it by one of the legions of 
pamphleteers who flourished when there were no daily papers 
for the airing of every grievance. 

The “ old lady ” is a most reticent person, of old-maidish 
habits, who cares little for any visitors, and who insists that 
those she receives shall be vouched for on unquestionable 
authority and introduced with every formality. 

A shilling will take one all the way up to the cross on 
the dome of St. Paul’s, and into the strong room of the 
Tower, wherein the regalia are stored, crown upon crown and 
sceptre against sceptre; with so small a coin one can unlock 
the doors of all the chapels in Westminster Abbey or de¬ 
scend into the crypt of the before-mentioned Cathedral; but 
the privilege of visiting the “ old lady ” is unpurchasable, and 
her servants cannot be bribed to show any of her'possessions 
without her authority. 

The usual course Is to procure an introduction from one 
of the directors, and, fortified with this, the visitor is treated 
with a great deal of civility, though he is expected to listen, 
not to inquire; to look at what is shown to him, not to ex¬ 
plore what lies beyond; and, like a discreet guest, not to ask 
for more than is offered to him. He will be shown through 
the lofty offices, where very gentlemanly clerks are shovelling 
out and weighing the tinkling, yellow sovereigns; poring over 



COURTYARD, BANK OF ENGLAND. 








































































































iSS3. Printing Bank-Notes . 321 

ledgers and day-books and running their fingers over the 
crisp notes; he will see portraits of former governors and 
cashiers of the bank, sagacious-looking gentlemen, with noth¬ 
ing in their complexion or figure to indicate that they 
neglected the opportunities for enjoyment which their wealth 
afforded; and he will be admitted into the printing-office, 
where bank-notes are being printed as if they were farthing- 
ballads. 

Watching the easy motion of the delicate machinery as it 
transforms the blank paper into the precious legal tender, and 
heaps up thousands, tens of thousands, and hundreds of thou¬ 
sands of pounds, he may think, if he is ignorant of the laws 
of finance, that the production of money is a very simple 
affair, and that it can be carried on indefinitely. The ca¬ 
pacity of the press to produce notes is only limited by its own 
speed ; but it is a great mistake to suppose that ^10,^20, or 
£\oo is produced every time a ^10, ^20, or ^100 note is 
printed. The notes are no more money than are so many 
slips of curl-paper, unless there is gold or other security to 
the full value which they bear on their face in the vaults of 
the bank; and it is because the Bank of England always 
practically has in its cellars enough gold to redeem all its 
notes on demand that it is so stable. It loses the profits 
which this gold would probably yield if it were invested in 
commercial channels, but it absolutely secures the value of 
the notes. 

The visitor is taken into the cellars where the gold is piled 
up in ingots, guarded by prison-like gratings and doors, and 
he is ushered into that treasure-house where the notes them¬ 
selves, in commonplace-looking packages, are held for issue. 
A package of them is even put into his hands by the pleasant 
gentleman who has charge of this department, — alight, tri¬ 
fling, inconsiderable package, which contains enough £20 
notes to make ^1,000,000, or $5,000,000 ; and a great vista of 


522 Young Folks History of London. 

possibilities opens with a flash upon his mind when the custo¬ 
dian, with studied unconcern, reveals the value of what for a 
dreamy moment he holds in his hands. 

From the cellar he is conducted into the rooms where the 
cancelled notes are stored away and the coins are weighed. 
No note which comes back to the bank is ever reissued; it 
may have been out five minutes, and it may have been out a 
century, but in either case it is immediately cancelled ; a cor¬ 
ner of it is torn off; its date and number are recorded, and 
it is filed away in a safe for ten years ; it can be referred to 
in an instant should there be occasion to do so for any 
purpose during this time, but at the end of ten years it is 
destroyed. 

All coins brought to the bank, whether new or old, 
are weighed before they are again put into currency, and 
those deficient are defaced. The weighing machine is self¬ 
acting, and it automatically separates the light coin from the 
others after weighing them. 

“ Imagine/’ says an English writer, describing the appara¬ 
tus, “ imagine a long trough or spout — half a tube that has 
been split into two sections — of such a semi-circumference 
as holds sovereigns edgeways, and of sufficient length to allow 
two hundred of them to rest in that position, one against an¬ 
other. The trough, thus charged, is fixed slopingly upon the 
machine over a little table as big as the plate of an ordinary 
sovereign balance. The coin nearest to the Liliputian plat¬ 
form drops upon it, being pushed forward by the weight of 
those behind. Its own weight presses the table down; but 
how far down ? Upon that hangs the whole merit and dis¬ 
criminating power of the machine. At the back and at each 
side of this small table two little hammers move by steam 
backward and forward at different elevations. If the sover¬ 
eign be full weight, down sinks the table too low for the 
higher hammer to hit; but the lower one strikes the edge, and 



PARLOR, BANK OF ENGLAND 





























































































1883. Sovereigns of Light Weight. 325 

off the sovereign tumbles into a receiver to the left. The 
table pops up again, receiving, perhaps, a light sovereign, and 
the higher hammer, having always first strike, knocks it into 
a receiver to the right, time enough to escape its colleague, 
which, when it comes forward, has nothing to hit, and returns 
to allow the table to be elevated again. In this way the rep¬ 
utation of thirty-three sovereigns is established or destroyed 
every minute. The light weights are taken to a clipping 
machine, slit at the rate of two hundred a minute, weighed 
in a lump (the deficiency being charged to the banker from 
whom they were received), and sent to the mint to be re¬ 
coined.” 

If a light sovereign is presented at the bank, it is slit, 
whether the person to whom it belongs consents or not; 
and though he may demand its return, it is not given to him 
until an ugly gash has been made in it to indicate its defi¬ 
ciency. 

The buildings of the bank are just what one would imagine 
them to be without having seen them. 1 hey are solid, clean, 
and simple. The frescos and variegated marbles of modern 
business palaces, the bronze balustrades, the acres of plate- 
glass, the whirring bells with electric communication high and 
low, and the sumptuous upholstery of modern offices, — who 
would expect to find them in the Bank of England? No; 
the “ Old Lady of Threadneedle Street ” is not a la mode; 

frippery of the day would not become hei, and the furni 
niture of her house, like the house itself, is substantial and 
useful. The decorum of the servants, too, is beyond re¬ 
proach * the gentlemen to whom the visitor is introduced, 
whether they are mere record clerks filing away the cancelled 
notes, or printers at the wonderful press upon which the new 
notes are produced, or secretaries, or governors, are courtly 
in their civilities, and even the porters, who stand at the en¬ 
trances with silk hats and silver-buttoned coats of brilliant 


326 Young Folks' History of London. 

colors, have the air of belonging to a very superior establish¬ 
ment. 

Though there is little external display, the business is con¬ 
ducted on a splendid scale; over one thousand persons are 
employed, and the pay-roll amounts to more than $2,000,000 
annually. A quarter of a million sovereigns are often han¬ 
dled in the course of a single day, and the entire business in 
that time occasionally amounts to more than ^2,500,000, 
or $15,500,000. 

The bank is not, like the halls of the city companies, a 
“ shrine of gluttony ; ” but in the basement, where the ingots 
held as security for the notes are hoarded, there is a kitchen 
and a small cellar of wines for the officer in command of the 
company of soldiers which garrisons the treasure during the 
night. 

Let us now look at the circumstances which led to the 
origin of the bank, and briefly review its history. 

Banking, as the science which it is in modern times, was 
not known during the Middle Ages. The Jews and Lombards 
loaned money in London and carried on certain branches of 
the banking business, but the merchants who had surplus 
cash did not know what to do with it for safety. They could 
keep it in their strong-boxes, or deposit it in the mint, but 
they could not put it where it would at once be safe and 
profitable. 

The mint itself proved to be risky. Charles I. thievishly 
took possession of ^200,000 which the citizens had depos¬ 
ited there, and called it a loan. After that no more money 
found its way into the mint for the sake of security. 

Not knowing where to hide their cash, the merchants then 
intrusted it, distributed in small portions, to their clerks and 
apprentices, and the latter frequently ran away with it. A 
new and safer mode of giving money in trust became indis¬ 
pensable, and the goldsmiths now received the confidence of 





1 694. The Founder of the Bank. 327 

the merchants. They accepted money on deposit, allowing 
interest upon it, and they also received the rents of gentle¬ 
men’s estates which were remitted to town. So profitable 
was the business, that some of the goldsmiths gave up their 
original trade and became solely bankers, — among the first 
to do this being Francis Child, whose famous bank still exists 
near where Temple Bar until lately stood. 

The goldsmiths proved themselves worthy of the confi¬ 
dence placed in them; but in 1694 William Paterson, a 
Scotchman, came forward with a project to establish a na¬ 
tional bank, and he became father of the “ Old Lady of 
Threadneedle Street.” 

Though possessing great financial ability, he did not enrich 
himself, and his life, unlike that of most men of a similar 
bent, was a wandering and adventurous one. Many curious 
stories are told of him. One is that he went to the West 
Indies as a missionary, and abandoned that peaceful vocation 
for the career of a buccaneer. Another relates that, having 
lost his paternal fortune, he wandered from place to place 
with a pedler’s wallet. At all events, it is known that he trav¬ 
elled while young, and visited nearly all the countries in 
Europe, as well as the West Indies and parts of this conti¬ 
nent. When he returned to England he had a plan for a 
national bank similar to the Bank of Venice, and something 
of the kind was so necessary that his proposition was received 
with general approbation. The Government wanted money, 
and, in consideration of a loan of ^1,200,000, it granted a 
charter to the new bank, and guaranteed eight per cent inter¬ 
est on the sum advanced and ^4,000 a year for the expenses 
of management. The whole of the necessary capital was sub¬ 
scribed within ten days, and the success of the bank was 
immediate. 

It has once or twice been in danger; it has often excited 
the animosity of other banks, to which it has refused help 


328 


Young Folks History of London. 


when its assistance would have averted disaster; but, on the 
whole, its existence has been a national benefit. It has re¬ 
stored a vitiated coinage to a standard value, and substituted 
its own notes for those of numberless small and more or less 
irresponsible concerns; its policy has always been cautious, 
and it has maintained the intimate relations with the Govern¬ 
ment which it established when it was founded. It is the 
banker of the Imperial Government, and as such receives 
taxes, and pays the interest on the national debt, etc., for 
which services it is paid ^340 for each ^1,000,000 of busi¬ 
ness transacted. 

Paterson did not participate in the success of the institu¬ 
tion which he founded. Almost within a year he withdrew 
from it, or, as it is said, “ the friendless Scot was intrigued 
out of his post and out of his honors.” But he was still full 
of schemes for the development of commerce and the colo¬ 
nization of foreign countries. He seems, indeed, to have 
been impelled by that spirit of restlessness which is usually 
fatal to enduring success, and though it is said that he was 
unfairly used by his associates, it seems likely that, even if he 
was imposed upon, his imaginative temperament and roving 
inclinations contributed to the failure of his life. 

After retiring from the bank, he entered upon a still larger 
enterprise, the purpose of which was to form “ a free com¬ 
monwealth in Darien.” He succeeded so far as to form a 
company of merchant adventurers, under the title of “ The 
Company of Scotland Trading to Africa and the Indies,” and 
his intention was to establish a British colony stretching over 
the whole Isthmus of Panama, which colony, he believed, 
would become a chief station in the great highway of the 
world, forming an emporium where the commerce of the 
East would meet that of the West. 

“ The plan,” says Mr. Frederick Martin, “ great and’noble 
in its conception, was by no means impracticable, and had 











1690. 


The Darien Expedition . 


329 


it been fully carried out according to the intentions of the 
projector, might have had incalculable consequences for 
commerce and civilization.” 

On July 26,. 1690, “ twelve hundred men sailed in five 
stout ships ” from the harbor of Leith. But the expedition 
failed to accomplish its purpose ; the Government was opposed 
to it; dissensions broke out among the leaders; sickness re¬ 
duced the men ; and only a few survived the fevers of the isth¬ 
mus. Among those who returned was Paterson himself, and 
though he was ruined and his dearest hopes had been frus¬ 
trated, he was not daunted, and continued to struggle in the 
development of new plans for extending British trade. The 
Scottish Parliament recommended that a pension should be 
given to him, but he never got it. He spent the closing 
years of his life in London, and he died in January, 1719. 

The bank, with its governmental patronage and enormous 
resources, had little to fear from rivals. It was secure when 
its competitors were in peril, and it avoided calamity through 
the caution of its managers, rather than escaped it through 
any unusual stroke of good luck. The advisers of “ The 
Old Lady of Threadneedle Street ” were far-seeing and 
prudent, and shunned the glittering bait which led others 
into ruinous speculations. But on several occasions all their 
precautions were unavailing, and disaster stared them in the 
face ; it confronted them and shook their nerves; but, after 
a momentary shock, they recovered their presence of mind 
and drove the spectre off. 

On one occasion they defeated a “run” on the bank by 
employing agents to present notes for payment and to de¬ 
mand the whole amount in sixpences. The cashiers were so 
long in counting these small coins that the persons who 
wished to withdraw large sums were prevented from present¬ 
ing their accounts, and, by delaying them, the bank was 
enabled to prepare for them. 


330 


Young Folks History of London . 


On another occasion the Government came to the rescue, 
and, to relieve the bank of a pressure which it could not 
stand, passed a summary law prohibiting it from paying cash 
except for sums under twenty shillings. People might pre¬ 
sent their demands for larger sums, but the cashiers could 
only shake their heads and say that they would be most will¬ 
ing, but for the order of the Privy Council. 

On another occasion it was obliged to suspend, and at an¬ 
other time, though it was solvent, its notes were at a large 
discount. It had a powerful friend in the Government when¬ 
ever it was in distress; but it received little help from other 
banks, to which it vouchsafed small comfort when they were 
embarrassed. 

It is said that, in the early part of the last century, the 
Bank of England deliberately sought to injure Childs’ Bank, 
of which it was jealous, — a story which does not seem very 
probable. It was the custom of bankers to deliver, in ex¬ 
change for money deposited, a receipt which might be 
circulated like a modern check. The Bank of England 
secretly collected a very large number of receipts belonging 
to Childs’ Bank, with the hope that, if they were all suddenly 
presented, the latter would be unable to cash them ; but in 
this the conspirators were outwitted. The proprietors of 
Childs’ Bank learned of the plot in time, and went for help 
to the celebrated Duchess of Marlborough, who gave them a 
single check for ^700,000 on their opponents. When the 
messenger of the Bank of England arrived with the receipts, 
the people representing Childs’ received them without ex¬ 
pressing any surprise, and, after counting them, redeemed 
them in Bank of England notes, and, as these were at a dis¬ 
count, a large profit was made by the transaction. The 
amount involved was between ^500,000 and £ 600,000. 

Childs’ Bank and ELoares’ Bank survive with honor 





THOMAS SUTTON 

































333 


* 702 . A Runaway Match. 

unstained on the same sites where they prospered two 
centuries ago. 

I he sign of Hoares’ was a golden bottle, which hung over 
the door until a few years ago, when a new building sup¬ 
planted the old one; and it is said that the golden bottle 
contained a leather bottle, which Hoare brought with him to 
London when he came seeking his fortune with half-a-crown 
in his pocket. The sign of Childs’ was a marigold, and it is 
preserved in the existing building, and blossoms luxuriously 
in a design of the bank-checks. 

Francis Child was an industrious apprentice, who married 
the daughter of his master, and in due time succeeded to his 
estate and business. Year by year the wealth of Childs’ Bank 
increased, and in the reign of Charles II., the King himself, 
Prince Rupert, Nell Gwynne, and Pepys were among the 
depositors. Francis became sheriff of London, then lord 
mayor, then a member of Parliament, and, finally, knighthood 
was conferred upon him. He was called the father of bank¬ 
ing, and died in 1702. 

A romantic incident, which forms part of the history of the 
bank, is related by Mr. Edward Walford in his “ Londoni- 
ana.” The grandson of Francis Child lived with one daugh¬ 
ter in a great house in Berkeley Square. This young lady 
was very pretty, and when she was eighteen years of age it 
was her father’s ambition that she should marry a person of 
no less rank than a duke. One afternoon the young Earl of 
Westmoreland, a customer of the bank, dined quietly with 
Mr. Child in the back parlor, under the sign of the “ Mari¬ 
gold,” and when the dinner was over he turned to the old 
banker and said : “ Mr. Child, I wish for your candid opin¬ 
ion on the following case : Suppose you were in love with a 
young lady and her father refused his consent to her mar¬ 
riage with you, what would you do? ” 


334 


Young Folks History of London , 

“ Why, I should run away with her, of course,” indiscreetly 
replied Mr. Child, warmed, no doubt, by his wine, and little 
suspecting that his own daughter was concerned. 

Now that young lady, Mistress Sarah Child, had met Lord 
Westmoreland once or twice in society, and an immediate 
attachment had sprung up between them. It is evident from 
the rest of the story that there must also have been an explicit 
understanding between them when the Earl dined with 
her father. A few nights afterward, while the banker was 
dozing in his arm-chair after dinner, a post-chaise and four 
drew up under the shadow of the trees which had then been 
newly planted in Berkeley Square. At a given signal a young 
lady stepped out of the house and into the carriage which 
had been brought for her by her lover. The post-boys 
drove off as fast as the four horses could carry them, along 
the northern road which led toward Scotland, and they had 
a long start before Mr. Child discovered that his daughter 
had flown. Nevertheless, he at once ordered a coach, and 
in the good old-fashioned way set off in pursuit of the runa¬ 
ways. So great was his speed, that, just as they were on the 
Dumfriesshire border, and only a short distance from Gretna 
Green, he overtook them, or rather he would have done so if 
Lord Westmoreland had not shot the leader of the banker’s 
vehicle. This bold measure gave the pursued couple time to 
cross the border, where the accommodating blacksmith was in 
readiness, with the prayer-book open, and they were married 
at once. 

A marriage thus performed in Scotland by a layman, even 
a blacksmith, was as valid as if performed by the Archbishop 
of Canterbury. 

Mr. Child would not forgive his undutiful daughter, and 
never recovered from the shock her rebellion gave him ; 
but he lived long enough to witness the birth of a grand- 



1883. 


Noble Bankers. 


335 


daughter, to whom he left his great wealth. On reaching 
womanhood she married the Earl of Jersey, to whom she 
brought as a dowry her partnership in Childs’ Bank; and the 
descendants of that nobleman have ever since carried on the 
business and borne the name of the old banker in addition 
to that of their own family, the Villiers. 


* 

i 

/> 


A 



./ 







“ My home is the city; to and fro 
I wander o’er it from day to day, 

Hearing its myriad pulses play, 

Watching its life-waves ebb and flow ; 

Little I see and little I know 

Of rustling woods or flowery fields ; 

On the sights and sounds that the city yields, 

My heart and my fancy feed and grow. 

“Out from my casement, narrow and high, 

When the summer morn in the east is low, 

Over the long streets, row on row, 

I love to look with a dreaming eye ; 

While half of them still in black shadow lie, . 

And half of them shine like burnished gold, 

And only the wreathing smoke outrolled 
From the giant chimneys streaks the sky. 

“ Often again I look out on the street 

When the glittering lamps are all alight, 

Gemming the skirts of the dark-robed night, 

When the only sounds that my hearing greet 
Are mysterious murmurs the sense that cheat, 

Or the wakeful watchman’s heavy footfall 
Echoing up from the hollow wall, 

As he wearily paces his lonely beat. 

“ Oh, poets may sing of streams that flow, 

Braiding their ripples in the sun, 

Of shadowy wood and moorland dun, 

Of scented brakes where wild-flowers blow; 

Little of these I see or know ; 

My home is the city, and, day or night, 

On its sights and sounds, with a strange delight, 

My heart and my fancy feed and grow.” 

Chambers’s Journal 


CHAPTER XIX. 


THE ROYAL EXCHANGE. 

In the shape of a wedge fitting into the triangular space 
formed by the Mansion House and the Bank is the Royal 
Exchange : the triangular space itself is the focal point of 
nearly all the wheeled traffic of London, of nearly all the 
cabs and omnibuses which connect the ancient city with 
its numerous suburbs. Here are green omnibuses from 
Streatham, red omnibuses from Kew and Richmond, white 
omnibuses from Putney, chocolate omnibuses from Westmin¬ 
ster, yellow omnibuses from Camberwell, and sage-colored 
omnibuses from Kilburn, — various lines of varied colors, which 
take the toilers to and from this noisy place of money-getting 
and make it their terminus. 

They can only move slowly, for the street is occupied from 
curb to curb, and the omnibuses are seemingly inextricably 
entangled with four-wheel cabs, two-wheel cabs, “shandries” 
from the shops in Cheapside, and heavy drays from the neigh¬ 
borhood of Great Tower Street and St. Katharine’s Docks. 
A pedestrian has no chance of crossing unless he is alert and 
courageous, darting here and there as in some athletic game. 
The timid ones are forced to stand irresolute and dismayed 
until a helmeted policeman comes to their aid. Few, how¬ 
ever, thus dally or look bewildered, and most of the persons 
in this hurrying crowd are so quick in movement and so 
skilful in dodging in and out among the moving obstructions, 
that any one watching them feels inclined to applaud them. 

2 3 


338 Young Folks History of London . 

Their brisk pace shows that they have a purpose, and even 
the office-boys, with shining sleeves, have a look of sagacity 
and shrewdness. When the frock-coated, silk-hatted men 
salute one another it is with a thriftiness of speech and a sharp 
decisiveness, it is evident that they have no moment to lose, 
and that they are all under high pressure. 

We are indeed at the very centre, not of London, but of 
the entire commercial world, and the movements of this 
throng will be recorded by telegraph in every corner of the 
earth. Yonder is the store-house of the world’s gold, and 
here, behind this handsome portico with its noble pillars and 
sculptured architrave, is the market-place where the produce 
of the world is bought and sold in quantities whose vastness 
is scarcely comprehensible. 

For many centuries this has been the point where the 
merchants of London have congregated in the greatest num¬ 
bers. In Shakespeare’s time you might have seen here, in¬ 
stead of the urgent gentlemen in frock-coats and silk hats, 
a picturesque crowd in many kinds of costume. English was 
not so common a tongue then as now, and people wore the dis¬ 
tinctive dress of their native land even when they were abroad. 
Here would be merchants from Mantua and Padua in homely 
stuffs, piped with red, and among them would be seen the 
Jewish gaberdine. The street-boy would be present with doub¬ 
let, belt, and ragged woollen cap, the latter being used as a 
weapon to beat any hostile youth. Perhaps, also, there 
would be one or two of the absurd Elizabethan fops, scented 
with rosemary and lavender, crowned with feathered hats, 
armed with velvet-cased and gold-tipped rapiers, wrapped in 
cloaks of brilliant hue, and decorated with huge gold chains. 
Here would be turbaned slaves abjectly following their mas¬ 
ters, and sober-hued apprentices armed with cudgels. 

The dress would indicate the class of the wearer. Besides 
the apprentices in their fustian doublets, white stockings, 



FIRST ROYAL EXCHANGE. 
















































































































































































































































1566. 


Sir Thomas Gresham. 


34 i 


shoes of unpinked hide, girdles of leather, and plain ruffs, 
we should see citizens in cloaks of brown or chocolate cloth, 
and doublets of more fancy colors than the apprentices, though 
less gorgeous than those of the dandies. We should recog¬ 
nize as aldermen those with satin sleeves and doublets, and 
furred and scarlet gowns. At this period the Londoners were 
superbly attired. Even the Venetians, who set the fashion in 
many things, were amazed, says Edwin Goadby, at the gor¬ 
geous apparel of the English, — at the white and red-crossed 
uniform of the London trainbands or militia, at the gaudy 
liveries of men-servants and pages, at the laces and jewelry of 
the gallants, and at the painted cheeks and silks and velvets 
of the ladies. “ Women carry manors and thousands of oak- 
trees on their backs,” it was said, and Ben Jonson described 
the men as “ mincing marmosets,” made all of clothes and 
face, who did not dare to smile for fear of “unstarching their 
looks.” 

Such would be the crowd we should see, and in a babel of 
tongues we should hear ejaculations about Tripoli raisins, 
French coats, and the price of pepper; scraps of Russian, 
Dutch, French, and Italian. 

For many years the merchants who made this a place 
where they could meet on common ground for the transac¬ 
tion of business had no shelter. “ The merchants and trades¬ 
men, as well English and strangers, for their general making 
of bargains, contracts, and commerce,” says Stow, the anti¬ 
quary, “ did usually meet twice every day, at noon and in the 
evening. But these meetings were unpleasant and trouble¬ 
some, by reason of walking and talking in an open narrow 
street, being there constrained either to endure all extremes 
of weather, viz. heat and cold, snow and rain, or else to shel¬ 
ter themselves in shops.” 

Now about 1566 a public-spirited citizen offered to rem¬ 
edy this state ot things by erecting a bourse 01 exchange, in 


34 2 Young Folks History of London. 

which the merchants could do their business in comfort, and 
all lie required was that a site should be provided for it. A 
subscription was immediately set afoot for the purchase of 
the chosen spot in Cornhill, and in due time the land was 
conveyed to him. 

The name of this citizen was Sir Thomas Gresham, and 
next to Whittington he is more prominent than any other 
character in the history of the city of London. 

It is on record, that being at the house of Mr. John Rivers, 
alderman, in company with Sir William Garrard, Sir William 
Chester, Thomas Rowe, Lionel Ducket, German Cioll, and 
Thomas Bannister, Sir Thomas “ most frankly and lovingly 
promised ” that within a month after the completion of the 
bourse he would present it in equal moieties to the city and 
the Mercers Company. In token of his sincerity he thereupon 
shook hands with Sir William Garrard, and in the presence 
of his assembled friends drank “ a carouse ” to his kinsman, 
Thomas Rowe. On the 17th of June, 1566, he laid the foun¬ 
dation stone, accompanied by several aldermen, each of 
whom laid a piece of gold upon it for the workmen, and in 
November, 1567, the Exchange was complete. 

Sir Thomas was a man of prompt and energetic measures, 
and one of the anecdotes told of him seems more character¬ 
istic of Chicago or St. Louis than of a London merchant in 
the sixteenth century. Queen Elizabeth was visiting him at 
his splendid house in Bishopsgate Street, having previously 
accepted his hospitalities at his country house, and with her 
usual frankness she complained one afternoon, when looking 
into the court-yard, that the latter was too large, and ought to 
be divided into two. Sir Thomas instantly despatched mes¬ 
sengers to procure workmen, and in the night-time a wall was 
run up in the middle ; so that in the morning the Queen, to 
her surprise, found the work which she had suggested actu¬ 
ally achieved. 



THOMAS GRESHAM. 











i55o. 


Portraits of Gresham . 


345 


The work on the Exchange was done with similar rapidity. 

There is a curious tradition, not unsupported by facts (says 
Knight), with respect to the formation of the framework of 
the building. Gresham refers in one of his letters to “ my 
house at Rinxhall, where I made all my provision for my 
timber for the Bourse.” Rinxhall, or Ringshall, is near Battis : 
ford, Suffolk, from which it is divided by a great common 
called Battisford Tye. The latter was formerly rich in wood, 
and in a certain part of it the remains of several saw-pits are, 
or were when Knight’s “ London ” was issued, still discernible. 
There is little doubt, then, that the wood was procured here, 
and tradition further affirms that the entire framework was 
constructed at Battisford Tye. 

Gresham insisted on having the work done in his own way, 
and he controlled and supervised it from the beginning. 
The freestone used was also brought from one of his estates, 
while the slates, iron, and glass and wainscoting were brought 
from Antwerp. Even the labor of erection was done to some 
extent by foreigners. The architect was a Fleming named 
Henrich, and many of the artisans came from the Low Coun¬ 
tries. Gresham had none of the insular prejudice which 
made craftsmen from abroad hated in London. 

A few words now about his origin and circumstances may 
not be out of place, though his biography is probably familiar 
to most of our readers. Three portraits of him were painted 
by his friend, Sir Antonio More. The first, painted in 1550, 
is a half-length, and represents him with his doublet unbut¬ 
toned and both his hands resting on a table — perhaps a 
counter. He wears on his head, as usual, a black cap, and 
in his right hand holds his gloves, an article of dress which 
(says his biographer, John William Burgon) was intended to 
indicate the significance of persons represented in ancient 
pictures. In proof of the high estimation in which embroid¬ 
ered gloves were held, Stow relates that when Edward De 


346 Young Folks History of London. 

Vere, Earl of Oxford, brought Queen Elizabeth a pair from 
Italy, she was painted with them in her hands. 

The second portrait, by Sir Antonio More, represents a man 
of mature age sitting in a chair, clad, as usual, in a solemn col¬ 
ored suit, with a small cap on his head and a pair of gloves 
•in his right hand. But the best-known portrait is that which 
has often been engraved in illustrated works on London. 
The same sober costume is seen in this as in all other por¬ 
traits of Gresham. In his girdle he wears a dagger, and 
from it depends an ancient purse or pouch, on which his 
right hand rests. In his left hand he holds a small round 
object — a pomander, the latter being a dried Seville orange 
filled with cloves and other spices, which was esteemed as a 
preservative against infection, though it became, like gloves 
and finger-rings, a badge of fashion. One writer has de¬ 
scribed it as an orange, and infers that it was introduced into 
the picture because Sir Thomas first brought that fruit into 
England. But oranges were well known in England before 
he was born. They are mentioned in the privy-purse expenses 
of Elizabeth of York under the year 1502, and in an account 
of the privy expenses of Henry the Eighth frequent allusion is 
made to a gardener who brought “ oranges, dates, and other 
pleasures to the King’s grace.” It can scarcely be questioned 
that the object in the picture is a pomander, and, like the 
gloves, it marks the social dignity of the person wearing it. 

Gresham was not one of those romantic apprentice boys 
who come to London in a condition little better than that of 
beggars, and by industry and virtue push themselves ahead 
until they succeed to their master’s business. The Greshams 
were a Norfolk family of distinction which included several 
eminent merchants, and the father of Thomas was Lord 
Mayor of London and a knight. Thomas was intended for 
a mercantile career from his boyhood; but nevertheless his 
father bestowed a university education upon him, and so far 


T 55 r - 


Gresham becomes King's Factor. 


347 


from delaying his advancement in his chosen occupation, 
his scholarship proved to be a constant advantage to him. 
Like his father and his uncles, he became a member of the 
Mercers’ Company,— that famous association which has pro¬ 
vided Lond6n with more than a hundred of her Lord May¬ 
ors,— and at the age of twenty-four he was already a merchant 
of repute. At the age of thirty-two he became a “ king’s 
merchant,” or factor, and this appointment marks the real 
beginning of his prosperity. 

The Tudor sovereigns often were much in want of money. 
Hard and unjust laws prevented the natural wealth of the 
country from being developed, while frequent wars and lavish 
gifts to favorites helped to exhaust the treasury. In the time 
of Henry the Eighth and his immediate successors, Antwerp 
was the great emporium of commerce, and being the richest 
city in the world, its merchants became the greatest money¬ 
lenders. It was to Antwerp, then, that the impoverished 
monarchs looked when they were needy. The money lenders 
of that city knew that repayment was uncertain, however, and 
they demanded as much as fourteen per cent interest on their 
loans. The negotiation of the loans was intrusted, on the 
King’s part, to a factor, such as Gresham became, and the 
position was one which required great ability, influence, and 
integrity. It was also expected of this servant of the Crown 
that he should keep the Privy Council informed of what was 
going on abroad, and he was not infrequently called upon to 
confer with foreign princes in the additional capacity of an 
ambassador. 

The position to which Gresham was appointed was there¬ 
fore the highest honor which a merchant could receive at 
the hands of his sovereign, and he at once proved the wis¬ 
dom shown in the selection of himself for the office. He 
raised the rate of exchange from sixteen shillings Flemish for 
the pound sterling to twenty-two shillings, and it is probable 


348 Young Folks History of London. 

that he saved England a very large sum from the beginning 
of his negotiations. In all his transactions he showed a 
statesman-like prudence, the sagacious calculativeness of a 
master of finance, and a practical knowledge of the details of 
commerce. He had the manners and mental scope of a 
diplomat, and could associate with kings, while at the same 
time he could run his fingers over a cloth or test a handful 
of silk with the judgment of a practical workman. For all 
his services he received a paltry pound a day; but at Ant¬ 
werp, which exported nearly every article of luxury required 
by the English people, he acquired that experience which 
subsequently enabled him to enrich himself. 

He lived during the reigns of Henry the Eighth, Edward 
the Sixth, Mary, and Elizabeth. When Queen Mary came to 
the throne he was hastily dismissed, for he was known to be 
a staunch Protestant, and only Papists were now in favor; 
but when his usefulness was revealed to the Queen, he was 
reinstated, and though he did not renounce his faith, he 
conducted himself with such ability and. discretion, that 
Mary bestowed many gifts upon him. 

A friend of the Papist Queen, he became a favorite of 
her successor, Protestant Elizabeth, who, offering her hand 
for him to kiss, told him that she would always keep one 
ear ready to hear him, — “ which,” says Gresham, “ made 
me a young man again, and caused me to enter on my 
present charge with heart and courage.” The character of 
Gresham was as high as his services were valuable. He 
improved English credit abroad by making the sovereigns 
respect their promises, and all along he advocated the bor¬ 
rowing of money from London merchants instead of for¬ 
eigners, so that the interest required should not go out of 
England. 

The years following the accession of Elizabeth were proba¬ 
bly the happiest in his life, and he was then full of wealth and 





{ 


THE ROYAL EXCHANGE 









































































































I 


i57o. 


Opening of the Exchange . 


351 


honors; but when the world had done all it could for him, 
there came upon him one ot those blows which neither 
honors nor riches can avert. He lost his only and dearly- 
beloved son, and the spirit of his ambition was quenched, 
now that that which had stimulated it in the father’s breast 
was no more. It was this bereavement which, in the opinion 
of Mr. Burgon, led him to dedicate his fortune to his fellow- 
citizens, and one of the earliest ot his benefactions was the 
presentation of the Exchange. 

The new building was distinctly Flemish, and was a close 
imitation of the great Bourse of Antwerp. The principal 
features of the exterior were a lofty tower with two balconied 
galleries, and a grasshopper surmounting the ball at its top. 
All four corners of the building were also ornamented with 
the grasshopper, which was Gresham’s crest. There has 
been some controversy about this crest. A tradition existed 
that Gresham when a child had been deserted on the high¬ 
way, and that the chirping of a grasshopper called attention 
to the spot where he lay perishing of neglect. Whatever the 
origin of the crest was,— and it certainly was not this,— the 
grasshopper was frequently introduced among the decora¬ 
tions "of the Exchange, and it appeared over the peak of 
every dormer window. 

The building consisted of an upper and a lower portion, 
the first being laid out in shops, one hundred in number, and 
the other into walks and rooms for the merchants, with shops 
on the exterior. Gresham, no doubt, calculated on a hand¬ 
some profit from the rent of the shops, but he was unable to 
let them until he obtained the royal prestige by a visit from 
Queen Elizabeth. She came attended by the Court to the 
merchant’s house in Bishopsgate Street (which was also 
adorned with the grasshopper), and having dined, she in¬ 
spected the Exchange, which was illuminated on the occa¬ 
sion, and commanded that henceforth it should be called the 


352 Young Folks History of London. 

Royal Exchange. From the day of the Queen’s visit the 
shops rapidly rose in value, and in a few years they were filled 
with the richest wares the world of commerce could produce. 
“The merchants are generally men of good habit,” said a 
clever writer of the time ; “ their words are generally better 
than their consciences; their discourse ordinarily begins in 
water, but ends in wine. The frequenting the walks twice a 
day, and a careless laughter, argues they are sound ; if they 
visit not once a day, ’t is expected they are cracking or bro¬ 
ken. Their countenance is ordinarily shaped by their suc¬ 
cess at sea, either merry, sad, or desperate. They are like 
ships at sea, top and top-gallant this day, to-morrow sinking. 
The sea is a tennis-court, their stakes are balls, the wind is 
the racket, and doth strike many for lost under line, and 
many in the hazard. . . . Rough seas, rocks and pi¬ 
rates, treacherous factors and leaking ships, affright them. 
They are strange politicians; for they bring Turkey and 
Spain into London, and carry London thither.” The mer¬ 
chants were not the sole occupants; the new Exchange 
became a resort for idlers, and the upper part, brilliantly 
lighted in the evening, became a fashionable lounge for ladies 
and gentlemen. 

The institution flourished; but, among so many monu¬ 
ments of the ancient glory of the city, it was destroyed by the 
Great hire of 1666. There were many statues of kings and 
queens, and one of Sir Thomas, which alone remained stand¬ 
ing after the conflagration. 

Gresham died suddenly in 15 79, and left a large sum of 
money for the foundation of various charitable and educa¬ 
tional institutions. He was buried in St. Helen’s Church, 
Bishopsgate Street, where his tomb may still be seen. 

The second Exchange, built after the Great Fire in the 
reign of Charles the Second, was burned down in 1838, and 
a circumstance is related in connection with this fire which 



The New Exchange. 


353 


1844. 

must have had a strong effect on the popular imagination at 
the time. The clock of the Exchange played certain tunes 
on certain days. The tune for Wednesday, the day on which 
the disaster occurred, was “ There is nae luck aboot the 
house ; ” and while the fire was raging, the bells rang out this 
sadly appropriate air, and then fell one after another into the 
ruin beneath. The original statue of Sir Thomas Gresham 
was destroyed with the building, and the flames were seen at 
Windsor, twenty-four miles from London. 

Another curious fact may be mentioned in reference to the 
second Exchange. A deserted child was found on the stone 
steps, and a kind-hearted citizen took charge of it and brought 
it up. The foundling was christened Michael Gresham, and 
he grew up a rich and prosperous man, and further per¬ 
petuated the noble name which he bore by giving it to a 
celebrated hotel in Dublin of which he was proprietor. 

The present Exchange was opened by Queen Victoria on 
Oct. 28, 1844, and it is one of the finest buildings in the 
city. It contains a memorial bust and the armorial bearings 
of Sir Thomas Gresham, and due credit is given to him in 
the records buried in the hollow of the foundation-stone. 


23 


“Sir John Herschel somewhat unctuously called London the 
centre of the terrene globe. Emerson says that all things precious, or 
'useful, or amusing, or intoxicating are sucked into English commerce, 
and floated to London. A recent writer, speaking of the metropolis, 
says that London is an epitome of the world, a museum of all human 
anatomies, a mirror for all the passions, a showroom for all the an¬ 
tiquities and splendors, a universal gala ground, and a perpetual 
mourning house. London is also the metropolis of the world’s litera¬ 
ture. Its literary memories are imposing, and are thickly strewed 
through all the years of four centuries. Everywhere, in its aris¬ 
tocratic squares and its business marts and its squalid purlieus, is 
London dotted with spots consecrated as the haunts of literary great¬ 
ness.” 


Mon cure D. Conway. 



CHAPTER XX. 


TEMPLE BAR AND ITS NEIGHBORHOOD. 

Temple Bar itself exists no longer. For centuries it stood 
between the western end of Fleet Street and the eastern 
end of the Strand, separating the City of London from the 
Liberty of Westminster; but in 1874 it was removed, to re¬ 
lieve the enormous traffic of those streets. Though the pic¬ 
turesque old archway has disappeared, however, and its site 
is occupied by an absurd monument which is almost as much 
of an obstruction as the Bar ever was, the name still attaches 
to the locality; and when every vestige of Dr. Johnson, Bos¬ 
well, and Goldsmith has been obliterated from Fleet Street; 
when the rapidly advancing improvements have supplanted 
all the smoky old taverns and dark alleyways; when per¬ 
haps even the Temple Church itself has been demolished, 
and the old inns of court are only preserved in prints and his¬ 
tories,— the conjunction of Fleet Street and the Strand will 
still be known, probably, as Temple Bar. 

Temple Bar was never a city gate, but it marked the city 
bounds ; and as a sign that royalty itself could not enter with¬ 
out the gracious consent of the municipal rulers, it was inva¬ 
riably closed when a sovereign approached the city, in order 
that this consent might be given, and, no doubt, that the King 
might be reminded of the independence which his citizens 
had procured for themselves in their jealously protected char¬ 
ters. When the monarch arrived, one herald sounded a 
trumpet and another herald knocked at the gate, which after 
a parley was loyally flung open, the Lord Mayor presenting 


356 Young Folks History of London. 

the sword of the city to the sovereign, who accepted it as a 
matter of form and returned it with due courtesy. This cere¬ 
mony was observed by Elizabeth when she went to return 
thanks at St. Paul’s Cathedral for the destruction of the 
Spanish Armada; again by Cromwell when he went to dine 
in state with the Mayor; again by Queen Anne after the bat¬ 
tle of Blenheim ; and, last of all, by Queen Victoria on several 
occasions. On the 5th of November, 1422, the hero of 
Agincourt, Henry the Fifth, was borne under the Bar to his 
tomb in Westminster Abbey, and in 1502 the hearse of Eliza¬ 
beth of York halted here while the abbots of Westminster 
and Bermondsey blessed the corpse. Anne Boleyn passed 
through the Bar the day before her coronation, and the an¬ 
cient gateway was newly painted for the occasion, while the 
conduits, which usually carried water to the houses, were filled 
with claret. It was sumptuously decorated again in honor of 
the coronation of Edward the Sixth, and also when his half- 
sister, Mary Tudor, came through the city to take her place 
on the throne. 

At Temple Bar the accession of Charles the Second was 
proclaimed. According to custom, the old oaken gates were 
shut, and the herald, with tabard on and trumpet in hand, 
knocked and gravely demanded entrance. The Lord Mayor 
appointed some one to ask who knocked. The herald replied 
that if they would open the wicket and let the Lord Mayor 
come thither, he would explain. The Mayor then appeared 
dressed in a crimson gown, and to him the herald spoke : “We 
are the herald-at-arms appointed and commanded by the 
Lords and Commons in Parliament, and demand an entrance 
into the famous City of London, to proclaim Charles the Sec¬ 
ond King of England, Scotland, France, and Ireland ; and we 
expect your speedy answer to our demand.” An alderman 
now replied, “ The message is accepted,” and the gates were 
thrown open. 







TEMPLE BAR 



















































































1746. Last Heads on Temple Bar. 359 

The shadow of every monarch and popular hero since 
Charles the Second’s time, says Mr. Thornbury, has rested for 
at least a passing moment on the old gateway. George the 
Third, young and happy, passed through Temple Bar the year 
after his coronation ; and years later he passed under it when, 
nearly broken-hearted, he went to return thanks for his par¬ 
tial recovery from insanity. George the Fourth also came 
through it to attend the thanksgiving services at St. Paul’s 
with which the downfall of Napoleon was celebrated; and 
twice on her visits to the city has the civic sword been de¬ 
livered to Queen Victoria at these portals. 

When Lord Nelson was about to be buried, the corpse, 
followed by sorrowing old sailors, was met at the Bar by the 
Lord Mayor; and at the funeral of the Duke of Wellington 
the ancient edifice was entirely covered with black cloth and 
velvet, against which were hung the armorial bearings and 
orders of the Duke in their proper colors, while upon the top 
were silvered cornices, urns, and a circle of torches. 

The Bar was for a long time used for the exhibition of 
the heads of persons who were executed for treason. These 
ghastly objects were fixed on spikes and allowed to moulder 
in the sun and rain until the wind brought the shrivelled re¬ 
mains to the ground, and a trade was made of hiring out spy¬ 
glasses by persons in the street below. The last heads exhib¬ 
ited were those of Francis Townley and George Fletcher, who 
with seven other Jacobites had been hanged, disembowelled, 
beheaded, and quartered on Kennington Common. About 
one hundred and twenty years ago these were blown down, 
and the iron spikes were removed early in the present century. 

The original division between the city and Westminster 
was simply made by posts and chains, — a bar , to which the 
name of the adjoining Temple was given. This gave place to 
a wooden house raised across the street, with a narrow gate¬ 
way underneath, which was taken down after the Great Fire, 





360 Young Folks History of London. 

and substituted by a building of Portland stone designed by 
Sir Christopher Wren. It had a large arch in the centre for 
a carriage-way, and a smaller semicircular arch on each side 
for foot-passengers. Each fagade had four Corinthian pilas¬ 
ters, an entablature, and an arched pediment. In four niches 
were statues of James the First and his Queen, Anne of Den¬ 
mark, Charles the First and Charles the Second. The gates 
were of oak, panelled, and surmounted by a festoon of fruit 
and flowers; and over the archway was an apartment which 
was rented by Childs’ Bank until the final demolition of the 
Bar in 1874. 

On all sides of the site of the old Bar is a neighborhood 
rich in historic associations. On the north is Chancery Lane, 
with the New Law Courts, and Lincoln’s Inn; on the south 
is the Temple itself, with its Gardens, Church, and barristers’ 
chambers; on the west lie the Strand and Covent Garden, 
and on the east is Fleet Street, with its printing-houses and 
news-shops, its literary byways and old taverns. Fleet Street, 
still distinguished by the possession of several great news¬ 
paper offices, has always been a haunt of authors and liter¬ 
ary adventurers. 

“ It is my practice when I am in want of amusement,” 
said Dr. Johnson, “to place myself for an hour at Temple 
Bar, and examine one by one the looks of the passengers ; 
and I have commonly found that between the hours of eleven 
and four every sixth man is an author. They are seldom to 
be seen very early in the morning or late in the evening; but 
about dinner-time they are all in motion, and have one uni¬ 
form eagerness in their faces, which gives little opportunity of 
discovering their hopes or fears, their pleasures or their pains. 
But in the afternoon, when they have all dined, or composed 
themselves to pass the day without a dinner, their passions 
have full play, and I can perceive one man wondering at the 
stupidity of the public, by which his new book has been 


1883. 


The Temple Gardens. 


361 


totally neglected ; another cursing the French, who fright 
away literary curiosity by their threat of an invasion; another 
swearing at his bookseller, who will advance no money with¬ 
out copy; another perusing as he walks his publisher’s bill; 
another murmuring at an unanswerable criticism ; another 
determining to write no more to a generation of barbarians; 
and another wishing to try once again whether he cannot 
awaken a drowsy world to a sense of his merit.” 

Happily the conditions of authorship have changed since 
Dr. Johnson’s time; and though they are not such as foster 
luxury, the writer who applies his abilities in the proper direc¬ 
tion may at least be sure of his dinner. 

The grounds of the Temple reach down from Fleet Street 
to the Thames Embankment. Some of the buildings are of 
smoke-stained brick, with small-paned windows, and no touch 
of ornament in their gloomy fronts. They are gathered in 
little courts and squares, with well-worn flagstones before 
them, and in them generations of lawyers have lived and 
done business,— the same profession monopolizing them still. 
The old church is also here, with its relics of the Crusades, its 
sun-dial, and cross and lamb. The atmosphere is of a long- 
removed past, though the hum and rattle of the busiest of 
London streets sounds over the roofs, upon which clusters of 
quaint old chimney-tops are uncoiling their smoke. The 
foliage of the trees and the chirruping of birds, the flash and 
patter of the fountain, and the hues of the flowers, gain an 
emphasis in contrast with the dark-red buildings; it seems, 
indeed, as if the birds, fountain, and flowers were unrivalled, 
and each awakens a feeling of gratitude for the solace that it 
bears to those who have left the noisy street and the commer¬ 
cial strife behind. But the ancient enclosure has some new 
and showy buildings in it, and toward the Embankment, 
where they overlook the river, the gardens, with gilded rail¬ 
ings, have a decidedly modern look. 


362 Young Folks History of London. 

The Order of Knights-Templars was established by the 
King of Jerusalem in 1118, and ten years later it found a 
home in England, where the members of it came to seek aid 
in protecting the Holy City, and the Christian pilgrims who 
went to it, from the infidels. They called themselves “ The 
Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solo¬ 
mon,” and though members of some of the noblest families of 
England and France, they subjected themselves to the most 
austere discipline, giving up all luxury and their personal 
independence. Their dress was a white mantle, with a red 
cross upon it. In battle they displayed a black and white 
banner, inscribed : Non nobis, Domine, non nobis , sed nomini 
tuo da gloriam, —“Not unta us, O Lord, not unto us, but 
unto Thy Name give the praise ; ” and to symbolize their ori¬ 
ginal poverty, they adopted for the seal of their Order the 
device of two men riding on one horse. 

At first they established themselves in a house on the pres¬ 
ent site of Southampton Buildings, Holborn ; but in fifty years 
they had so increased in wealth, that they were able to pur¬ 
chase the land which still commemorates the Order, and on 
it they erected a habitation for themselves, attached to which 
was a church of great beauty, in imitation of a temple near 
the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem. 

Their life was a most frugal one, and the poorest people now 
have comforts with which the Knights-Templars were unfamil¬ 
iar. Hie conditions under which they lived are thus set forth 
by Mrs. Newton Crosland : “Not a printed book existed, 
and there were very few writings in the world, except copies 
of the Scriptures in Latin and Greek. These manuscripts 
were often rightly judged more precious than their weight in 
gold. Reading was thought a great accomplishment, and to 
be able to write, something extraordinary. We may be pretty 
sure that, except the chaplains, and probably the Masters, few 
of the Knights-Templars could either read or write with any- 




KNIGHT-TEMPLAR 













































































































































































1 3 00 - 


Life of the Templars. 


365 


thing like facility. Then in the matter of their diet, — how 
limited it was ! Tea and coffee and potatoes and the greater 
number of our fruits and vegetables were wholly unknown to 
them. Wine was sold in small quantities as a cordial, and 
was probably looked on as a medicine; though it is likely 
enough that those Templars who had travelled in the East 
had tasted the Greek wines, and perhaps some others. How¬ 
ever, they had the best of all beverages close at hand, their 
fountain of pure water in the Temple Gardens, and the bright 
river called for many generations after their day the ‘ silver 
Thames.’ The river swarmed with fish, so that no doubt they 
had fresh, delicious fare for their so-called fast-days; and we 
may be sure that country friends supplied them with venison 
and other game very often, and we know they had plenty of 
money to purchase anything in the market. But it was a 
strange life, without reading and without postal communica¬ 
tion ; and we can fancy how the Templars told travellers’ tales 
over and over again for want of novelties to think about. 
Sun-dials and hour-glasses must have been used by them 
instead of clocks. 

“ But though the Knights-Templars knew how to honor 
their Order, they also knew very well how to punish refrac¬ 
tory members of it. There is still to be seen at the side of 
the church the penitential cell in which culprits were con¬ 
fined, often for long periods. It is reached by a narrow 
staircase, and measures less than five feet in length by two 
and a half in breadth, so that a well-grown man could 
not lie down at full length in it. There were apertures, 
however, looking into the church, through which he could 
hear the service. This shows that the Order had care for the 
souls of their erring brothers, however cruelly their bodies 
were treated. In this wretched cell the Grand Preceptor of 
Ireland was fettered by command of the Master, and died in 
his misery. At daybreak his body was ignominiously buried 


366 Young Folks History of London. 

between the church and the hall. Sometimes, for what 
we should call trivial offences, the Knights were publicly 
scourged. One of them quitted the Order; but, either im¬ 
pelled by superstitious terrors or really repentant of his faults, 
he voluntarily returned, and submitted himself to whatever 
penance the Master chose to inflict. He was condemned to 
fast on bread and water four days in the week, and to eat 
with the dogs on the ground for a year, and to be scourged 
in the church every Sunday.” 

While the members held themselves in subjugation, how¬ 
ever, the Order was despotic, the patriarch treating even the 
King with contumely ; and at last it was accused of being both 
heretical and corrupt. But though there was some truth in 
the charges brought against it, they were exaggerated, and it 
was covetousness rather than righteousness which prompted 
its enemies. The Templars were persecuted, — in France, 
some of them were burned at the stake, — and many of them 
were tortured, with the object of extorting confessions from 
them; and when their property had been pillaged by Church 
and State, what remained of it was given to a rival Order, — 
that of St. John, the Knights-Hospitallers of Jerusalem, which 
is commemorated in St. John’s Wood and in St. John’s Gate, 
Clerkenwell, — an ancient edifice, now used as a tavern, 
which formed the entrance to the hospital of the Order. 

In the old rooms over St. John’s Gate, Clerkenwell, the 
Gentleman ' 1 s Magazine was started by Cave, the printer, in 
1731, and Dr. Johnson, writing at so much per sheet, brought 
his articles thither, and hid himself from strangers behind 
a screen, because he was too shabby to appear in company. 
The Doctor told wonderful stories of the powers of a friend 
of his, an actor; and this genius was invited to rehearse be¬ 
fore Cave, — which he did with great success, his name 
being David Garrick. 

When the Knights of St. John acquired the property of the 



ST. JOHN’S GATE 





















































Restoration of the Church . 


369 


1339- 

fallen Templars, they leased it to certain students of the com¬ 
mon law, who were pleased with it because it was “ out of the 
city and the noise thereof, and in the suburbs; ” and though 
Henry the Eighth confiscated it, and since his time it has 
belonged to the Crown, it is still tenanted by lawyers. 

While in possession of the Templars the buildings formed 
a vast monastery, with a council-chamber, a refectory, a bar¬ 
rack, a church, a range of cloisters, and a terrace on the river 
for religious meditation and military exercises. Of these only 
the church, which escaped the Great Fire, remains,—a legacy 
of the days of the Crusades to modern times. 

The church has been frequently altered, and in 1839 it was 
restored at a cost of $350,000. There are really two 
churches: one, the round church, built in 1185 by the 
Templars themselves, and the other, a Gothic chapel, built 
by the Knights of St. John after the expulsion of the Tem¬ 
plars, so that under one roof we can see the transition from 
Norman to Early English architecture. The interior is 
beautiful. The pillars are of polished marble; the banners 
that flew in the Crusades are still unfurled in the decora¬ 
tions of the ceiling; and up there, too, the war-cry of the 
“poor fellow-soldiers of Jesus Christ* is repeated in graven 
letters. 

On the pavement lie two groups of effigies carved in free¬ 
stone, — the memorials of eight knights who were associates 
of the Temple. One of these was Geoffrey de Magnaville, 
Earl of Essex, who fought against King Stephen, sacked 
Cambridge, and plundered Ramsey Abbey. He was excom¬ 
municated ; and while besieging Burwell Castle was struck by 
an arrow from a crossbow just as he had taken off his helmet 
to get air. The Templars, not daring to bury him, soldered 
him up in lead, and hung him on a crooked tree in their river¬ 
side orchard. Absolution at last being given, the body was 
buried in the church. Another effigy is of Earl Marshall, 

24 


370 Young Folks' History of London . 

near which are effigies of his two sons, the youngest of whom 
was the last of his race. The extinction of the family was 
believed to be due to the curse of the Abbot of Femes, whose 
lands had been taken by the Earl. After the latter died, the 
Abbot went to his tomb and promised him absolution if he 
would restore the lands; but the dead gave no sign, and the 
curse remained upon his house until all who bore his name 
became extinct. Some of the effigies are straight-legged, and 
those whose legs are crossed are in this way shown to have 
taken the vow of a crusader. There are many other monu¬ 
ments in the church, but none is more interesting than that 
of Oliver Goldsmith. 

The possession of the Temple is vested in the Societies of 
the Inner and Middle Temple, which are composed of stu¬ 
dents and practitioners of English law. Besides these so¬ 
cieties there are two similar ones in, London,— the Society of 
Lincoln’s Inn and the Society of Gray’s Inn. All are called 
“inns,”—the word, like the French hotel, meaning a man- 
sion; and each has a hall, a chapel, a library and a suite of 
rooms for the use of the benchers, or governors, while there is 
a number of buildings divided into sets of chambers, which 
are occupied for the most part by barristers and solicitors. 
Each inn has the privilege of calling students to the Bar, 
and also the supervision of the education of candidates for 
the higher branch of the legal profession. The inns are, 
indeed, what medical colleges are to medical students, and 
they alone can create barristers. 

Before any student can be admitted to one of the four 
Societies of the Inns of Court, he must obtain the certificate 
of two barristers, and in the case of the Middle Temple that 
of a bencher, to show he is “ aptus, habilis, et idoneus mori- 
bus et scientia.” On his admission, he has the use of the 
library, may claim a seat in the church or chapel of the Inn, 
and have his name set down for chambers. He must then 


1562. 


3 /i 


The Middle Temple. 

keep “commons” by dining in hall for twelve terms, of 
which there are four in each year. Before keeping terms he 
must also deposit £ 100 with the treasurer, to be returned, 
without interest, when he is called to the Bar. 

No student can be “ called ” till he is of three years’ stand¬ 
ing and twenty-one years of age : after he is called he 
becomes a “barrister.” The call is made by the “bench¬ 
ers,” the governing body of seniors, chosen for their “hon¬ 
est behavior and good disposition,” and “such as from 
their experience are of best note and ability to serve the 
kingdom.” 

Lectures are given at each of the inns, which are open to 
all its students; examinations take place and scholarships 
are awarded. But a man may be called to the Bar who 
has not attended lectures or passed examinations, though 
“keeping commons” by dining in hall is an indispensable 
qualification. 

The principal buildings of the modern Temple are the two 
halls. That of the Middle Temple was begun in 1562, and 
is considered one of the grandest Elizabethan structures in 
London. The roof is of dark oak, which is also the material 
of the screen and the music gallery, and the walls are emblaz¬ 
oned with heraldry. The windows are filled with exquisitely 
colored glass. As the Templars dined in their hall seven 
hundred years ago, so in this hall dine the members of the 
Society, the benchers taking the places of the knights, the bar¬ 
risters those of the priors, or brethren, and the students those 
of the novices. Here Shakespeare’s “ Twelfth Night ” was per¬ 
formed soon after its first production, and the hall is probably 
the only remaining building in which one of the great drama¬ 
tist’s plays was seen by his contemporaries. Attached to 
the Middle Temple is the new library, — a handsome build¬ 
ing, erected twenty years ago at the southwest corner of the 
garden, in which, if we may believe Shakespeare, the partisans 


372 


Young Folks History of London. 

of the House of York and that of Lancaster first chose a red 
and a white rose as their respective badges. Says Warwick : 

“ This brawl to-day, 

Grown to this faction in the Temple Gardens, 

Shall send, between the red rose and the white, 

A thousand souls to death and deadly night.” 

The Inner Temple Hall is only a few years old; and if it 
has not the ancient splendor of the Middle Temple Hall, the 
members have cause for some satisfaction in the modern con¬ 
veniences which their new building possesses. 

Abutting on the church, the library, the garden, and the 
halls are the chambers of the barristers; and looking up to 
their blinking old windows, we seem to see many a familiar 
face. In Crown Office Row (now rebuilt) Charles Lamb 
was born, and Thackeray had quarters with Tom Taylor, the 
playwright. In King’s Bench Walk the great lawyer, William 
Murray, afterward Earl of Mansfield, had his abode ; and here 
he was visited by Sarah, the great Duchess of Marlborough, 
who came late in the evening to consult him, and was much 
annoyed to find that he had gone to a supper-party. “ I 
could not tell who she was,” said the servant, reporting her 
visit, “ for she would not tell me her name ; but she swore so 
dreadfully that I am sure she must be a lady of quality.” 

At No. 2 Brick Court lived the great commentator, Black- 
stone, who was much disturbed by the revelry of the tenant 
who occupied the rooms above him — one Oliver Goldsmith, 
who gave supper-parties and sang comic songs, having re¬ 
cently come into a large sum of money through the success 
of a comedy called “ The Good-natured Man.” Goldsmith’s 
gayety was like April sunshine, clouds were always passing 
over it; and the most innocent of his indulgences were fol¬ 
lowed by regrets. One day he hired a fancy dress, in which 
he proposed to attend a masquerade ; and repenting of the 



DR. JOHNSON’S PEW 




















































































































































































































































































































































\ 










Fountain Court . 


375 


1883. 

extravagance, he flung the parcel on the floor and played 
football with it,—an occupation in which Sir Joshua Rey¬ 
nolds found him in those same chambers at No. 2 Brick 
Court, where the gentle poet afterward died. 

In Fountain Court is the little fountain described by 
Dickens in “ Martin Chuzzlewit,” and at No. 1 Inner Temple 
Lane Dr. Johnson had chambers. “ It must be confessed,” 
says Boswell, “ that his apartments, furniture, and morning 
dress were sufficiently uncouth. His brown suit of clothes 
looked very rusty. He had on a little old, shrivelled, unpow¬ 
dered wig which was too small for his head; his shirt neck 
and the knees of his breeches were loose, his black worsted 
stockings ill-drawn up, and he had a pair of unbuckled shoes 
by the way of slippers.” Boswell himself had chambers at 
the bottom of Inner Temple Lane. 

It is not indispensable that a man should be a barrister in 
order to occupy chambers. Literary men have always shown 
a liking for the dusky old courts and shabby old apartments, 
and it is said that Chaucer himself was a tenant; though some 
doubt has been thrown upon this statement. In some in¬ 
stances the tenants of the chambers have been authors sim¬ 
ply, as was the case with Charles Lamb; and in many 
cases they have been members of the inns, combining the 
study or practice of the law with the more congenial pur¬ 
suit of literature. Among the famous authors, in addition 
to those already mentioned, have been Sir Walter Raleigh, 
Beaumont, Wycherley, Congreve, Sheridan, Edmund Burke, 
Cowper, and Moore. Among the lawyers of the Inner Tem¬ 
ple have been Audley, Lord Chancellor to Henry the Eighth; 
Nicholas Hare, Master of the Rolls to Queen Mary; Sir 
Christopher Hatton; Selden; and Judge Jeffreys: of the 
Middle Temple, Lord Chancellor Clarendon, Lord Ashbur¬ 
ton, Lord Chancellor Eldon, and Lord Stowell. 

Just outside of the precincts of the Temple is the neigh- 


376 Young Folks History' of London . 

borhood of Whitefriars, formerly the site of the house and 
gardens of the monks who bore that name, which after the 
Reformation became a notorious resort of rascals of all kinds, 
as it retained the privilege of sanctuary, by which any male¬ 
factor while within its bounds was safe from arrest for his 
crime. Its area comprised the streets, lanes, and alleys be¬ 
tween Water Lane (now Whitefriars Street), the Temple, 
Fleet Street, and the Thames, and to it the slang name of 
Alsatia was given. A bitter feud existed between the Alsa¬ 
tians and the Templars. In July, 1691, the latter, weary of 
their disreputable neighbors, attempted to brick up a gate¬ 
way which gave entrance into the Temple from Whitefriars; 
but as fast as the workmen built up, the Alsatians pulled 
down. At last the Templars flew out to rout the intruders, 
and in the battle which ensued two persons were killed and 
several wounded. The opposition of the Templars led in 
the end to the abolition of the so-called right of sanctuary, 
which made harbors in London for mobs of thieves, gamb¬ 
lers, and courtesans. A graphic description of Alsatia may 
be found in Scott’s “ Fortunes of Nigel ; ” and no better pic¬ 
ture of London in the time of James the First exists than 
this delightful romance, to which we have before referred. 

On the side of the street opposite to the Temple are the 
new Royal Courts of Justice,— a splendid group of buildings 
covering nearly eight acres of ground; and at their western 
end, in an almost oval space, which the Strand here forms, 
is the church of St. Clement Danes (one of Sir Christopher 
Wren’s), in which Dr. Johnson worshipped, “repeating,” 
says Boswell, “ the responses in the Litany with tremulous 
energy.” His pew was in the north gallery, and it is now 
marked by a brass plate. 

Behind the New Law Courts are the buildings and gardens 
of Lincoln’s Inn, which reach nearly all the way up to Hol- 
born ; and as we enter this richly historic field it seems futile to 



GATEWAY, LINCOLN’S INN. 











































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































1518. 


Gatezuay of Lincoln s Inn . 


*379 


attempt to compress into a few lines the many associations of 
the locality. There are several blind alleys leading into Lin¬ 
coln’s Inn, but the main entrance is a brick gateway bearing 
the date of 1518. Thus at the very portal we meet with one 
of those relics of the past which transport us on the wings of 
reminiscence into a period centuries earlier than our own. 
On this gateway Ben Jonson is said to have worked with his 
Horace in one hand and a trowel in the other, until “ some 
gentlemen, pitying that his parts should be buried under the 
rubbish of so mean a calling, did of their bounty manumize 
him freely to follow his own ingenious inclinations.” 

The name of the Inn came from Henry de Lacy, Earl of 
Lincoln, whose town house was on the site; and the build¬ 
ings, including the most spacious of London squares, com¬ 
prise those in Chancery Lane, which have a frontage of five 
hundred feet, and were erected between the reigns of Henry 
the Seventh and James the First; the old hall, wherein were 
held the revels of the Society; New Square, which was com¬ 
pleted in 1697; the chapel; the stone buildings, completed 
in 1845 i aR d the new hall and library. The stone buildings 
and the new hall and library are modern ; but nearly all the 
rest, as the dates indicate, are very old, and they have an 
appearance of greater antiquity than the courtyards of the 
Temple. 

On the left of the ground-floor, at No. 24 in the “ Old 
Buildings,” were the rooms of Oliver Cromwell’s secretary, 
John Thurloe, from 1645 to 1659, where his correspondence 
was discovered behind a false ceiling. There is a tradition 
that the Protector came thither one day to discuss with 
Thurloe the plot of Sir Richard Willis for seizing the persons 
of the three princes, sons of Charles the First. Having dis¬ 
closed his plans, he discovered Thurloe’s clerk apparently 
asleep upon his desk. Fearing treason, he would have killed 
him on the spot, but Thurloe interfered; and after passing 


380 Young Folks History of London . 

a dagger repeatedly over the clerk’s unflinching countenance, 
Cromwell was satisfied that he was really asleep. He was 
not asleep, however, but had heard everything, and he after¬ 
ward found means to warn the princes. 

Retaining the name by which the space was known when 
it was ampler, and not circumscribed as it now is by buildings, 
the square of verdure enclosed by the inn is still called Lin¬ 
coln’s Inn Fields. In former times it was a place of execu¬ 
tion, and on it Lord William Russell suffered death under 
a charge of high treason. On the north side is the Soane 
Museum, which was formed in his own house and bequeathed 
to the nation by the architect of the Bank of England, Sir 
John Soane, who especially intended it to illustrate the artistic 
and instructive purposes to which a private dwelling may be 
put. The collection includes several pictures of great value, 
including works by Turner, Hogarth, Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
and Sir Charles Eastlake. On the west side of the Fields is 
Lindsey House, built by Robert Lindsey, who fell in the ser¬ 
vice of Charles the First at Edgehill; and near this is the Sar¬ 
dinian Chapel, built a year before that King was beheaded. 
In a house opposite the chapel Benjamin Franklin lived 
when a journeyman printer. 'He lodged with a Roman 
Catholic widow and her daughter, to whom he paid a rent 
of 3s. 6d. a week. When kept at home by the gout he was 
frequently asked to spend the evenings with his landlady. 
“ Our supper,” he says in his Autobiography, “was only half 
an anchovy each, on a very little slice of bread and butter, 
and half a pint of ale between us ; but the entertainment was 
in her conversation.” From his temperance habits, Franklin 
was known as the “ water-American.” 

On the south side of the square is the Royal College of 
Surgeons, attached to which is the museum of one of the 
greatest of surgeons, Dr. John Hunter,— a priceless collection 
of anatomical specimens, including the skeletons of the thief- 



PROCLAMATION AT TEMPLE BAR 









































































































































































































































i88 3 . 


The Modern Strand. 


333 


taker, Jonathan Wild, and O’Brien, the Irish giant, who 
measured eight feet four inches. On the northern side of 
the square John Milton lived when he removed from Barbi¬ 
can, and at the northwestern corner is Newcastle House, built 
in 1686, which in the reign of George the Second was occu¬ 
pied by the Duke of Newcastle, of whom Lord Wilmington 
said, “ He loses half an hour every morning, and runs after it 
all the rest of the day, without being able to overtake it.” 

These are but a few of the associations of Lincoln’s Inn, 
which has had among its members Sir Thomas More, Sir 
Robert Walpole, Lord Mansfield, William Pitt, Lord Ellen- 
borough, and Spencer Perceval, the prime minister, who was 
assassinated at Westminster by a merchant named Belling¬ 
ham, because he had not attended to a trivial complaint made 
against the Russian ambassador by his murderer. 

Let us now return to Temple Bar. Reaching westward to 
Charing Cross and Trafalgar Square is the Strand, which was 
once the shore of the Thames, though it is now at least one- 
eighth of a mile from that river. The splendid mansions that 
once bordered it are all demolished, and on both sides of it 
are shops, theatres, and hotels. At night it is a blaze of light 
when other streets are dark, and the traffic continues to pour 
through it when all the rest of the vast city seems to be sleep¬ 
ing. Here again we seem to see a familiar face at nearly 
every window as we recall the history of the thoroughfare. 
Covent Garden, to the north of it, and the neighborhood to 
the south of it have also been peopled by a long line of celeb¬ 
rities ; but for a knowledge of these we must refer the reader 
to more comprehensive works than ours, in order that we may 
have space to glean something of the history of Fleet Street, 
which extends eastward from the Bar, and is incomparably 
more fertile in literary associations than any other street in 
London. Fleet Street is rapidly being modernized ; but it 
is not yet bereaved of all its smoky, sooty-faced houses, and 


384 Young Folks' History of London. 

many of it,s byways have been left undisturbed in the al¬ 
terations of its architecture. 

Just within the site of Temple Bar is Childs’ Bank, of which 
we have already given an account, and at No. 37 is Hoares’ 
Bank. But the interests of the street are literary, not com¬ 
mercial, and they have been so for many a year. Being a 
street of publishers and authors, it is not strange that many of 
the buildings are old taverns, in which the poets and essayists, 
the play-writers and the story-writers have gathered for relax¬ 
ation ever since coffee-houses came into fashion in the time 
of the Stuarts. The name and the site are in most instances 
all that remain of the original establishments ; but though the 
Mitre is now an unnoticeable public-house, and the Rainbow 
has a palatial hall instead of a low wainscoted room for its 
customers, the ground on which they stand is consecrated. 
Next door to Childs’ Bank was the Devil Tavern, a resort of 
Dr. Garth, Addison, Swift, and the great lexicographer, which 
in much earlier times had been the meeting-place of the 
Apollo Club, presided over by Ben Jonson. At No. 201 the 
Cock Tavern, celebrated by Tennyson, stood until recently, 
and in it Pepys often supped and made merry. At the foot of 
Chancery Lane Izaak Walton traded as a hosier and shirt- 
maker, while a few doors away, in the bow-windowed house 
which is still standing (No. 184, 185), lived the poet Drayton. 
In a house close by, now demolished, Abraham Cowley was 
born in 1618, the son of a grocer, and studied, as a child, 
the large copy of Spenser’s “ Faery Queene ” which lay on 
his mother’s window-sill, till he became, as he himself nar¬ 
rates — “ irrecoverably a poet.” 

In St. Dunstan’s Church, on the north side of the street, 
Richard Baxter was preaching, when there arose an outcry 
that the building was falling. He was silent for a moment, 
and then said solemnly : “ We are in God’s service, to pre¬ 
pare ourselves that we may be fearless at the great noise of 


1765 . Dr. Johnson again. 385 

the dissolving world, when the heavens shall pass away, and 
the elements melt with fervent heat.” Over the side entrance 
of the church is a statue of Queen Elizabeth holding the orb 
and sceptre, which is of much interest as having survived the 
Great Fire of London, when the building in which it stood 
was consumed, and as one of the few existing relics of the old 
city gates, for it formerly adorned the west front of Ludgare, 
one of the four ancient entrances to the city. 

In Fetter Lane Dry den and Otway lived, and in Crane 
Court was the home of the Royal Society. “ Fleet Street,” 
says Hare, “ is peculiarly associated with Dr. Johnson, who 
admired it beyond measure. Walking one day with Boswell 
on the beautiful heights of Greenwich Park, he asked, ‘ Is not 
this very fine?’ — ‘Yes, sir, but not so fine as Fleet Street.’ 
* You are quite right, sir,’ replied the great critic.” 

“ Here we may fancy him as Miss Burney describes him 
‘ tall, stout, grand, and authoritative, but stooping horribly, his 
back quite round, his mouth continually opening and shutting, 
as if he were chewing something; 'with a singular method of 
twirling and twisting his hands; his vast body in constant 
agitation, see-sawing backwards and forwards; his feet never 
a moment quiet, and his whole great person looking often as 
if it were going to roll itself, quite voluntarily, from its chair 
to the floor. ’ There is no figure out of the past with which 
we are able to be as familiar as we are wjth that of Samuel 
I ohnson; his very dress is portrayed for us by Peter 
Pindar: — 

“ ‘ Methinks I view his full, plain suit of brown, 

The large gray bushy wig that graced his crown; 

Black worsted stockings, little silver buckles, 

And shirt that had no ruffles for his knuckles. 

“ ‘ I mark the brown greatcoat of cloth he wore, 

That two huge Patagonian pockets bore ; 

Which Patagonians (wondrous to unfold!) 

Would fairly both his Dictionaries hold.’” 

25 


386 Young Folks History of London. 

At No. 17 Gough Square (a house still existing) his wife 
died, and he wrote the greater part of his Dictionary and 
began the “ Rambler ” and the “ Idler.” At No. 7 Johnson’s 
Court (not named after him) he lived from 1765 to 1776; and 
after that he took up his abode at No. 8 Bolt Court (a house 
burned down in 1819), where he died. 

Oliver Goldsmith lived at No. 6 Wine Office Court from 
1760 to 1762, earning a precarious livelihood by writing for 
the booksellers; and a corner of the Cheshire Cheese Tavern 
is pointed out in which he and Dr. Johnson used to sit. 

At No. 106 Fleet Street, John Hardman sold an unusually 
excellent snuff, and the great actors of the day gathered in 
his shop and sat on his tobacco chests talking about the 
latest plays. In Gunpowder Alley the Cavalier poet, Richard 
Lovelace, died of starvation. 

On the south side of the street, in the Alsatia which we 
have already described, was Bridewell. It was founded, like 
Christ’s Hospital, by King Edward the Sixth, under the emo¬ 
tion caused by a sermon on Christian charity which Bishop 
Ridley had preached, and it was used as a refuge for deserted 
children, long known as “ Bridewell Boys.” Gradually, from 
a reformatory it became a prison, and the horrors of the 
New Bridewell Prison are described by Ward in “The Lon¬ 
don Spy.” The prisoners, both men and women, were 
flogged on the naked back, and the stripes only ceased when 
the president, who sat with a hammer in his hand, let it fall 
upon the block before him. “ Oh, good Sir Robert, knock ! 
Pray, Sir Robert, knock ! ” became afterward often a cry 
of reproach against those who had been imprisoned in 
Bridewell. 

The name of Bridewell comes from St. Bride’s or St. Brid¬ 
get’s,— a holy spring with supposed miraculous powers. The 
well is now a pump. St. Bride’s Church was rebuilt by Wren 
after the Fire, and stands at the end of a little entry at the 



GROUP AT HARDMAN’S. 































































































1710. 


The Bells of St. Bride s. 


389 


foot of Fleet Street. Its bells, put up in 1710, are dear to 
the Londoner’s soul. Wynkyn de Worde, the famous printer, 
who rose under the patronage of the mother of Henry the 
Seventh, and published no less than four hundred works, was 
buried in the old church, which also contained the graves of 
the poets Sackville (1608) and Lovelace (1658). 

John Milton lived in a house adjoining the churchyard, 
and at the entrance of the passage, down which the tower of 
St. Bride’s may be seen from Fleet Street, is the office of the 
celebrated humorous journal, “ Punch.” From the eastern 
end of Fleet Street, Ludgate Hill extends to St. Paul’s Cathe¬ 
dral ; and the splendid front and dome of that edifice seem 
to reach the very sky. 


“ Methought I sat in seat of majesty, 

In the cathedral church of Westminster, 

And in that Chair where kings and queens are crowned.” 

Henry the Sixth. 



CHAPTER XXI. 


ST. PAUL’S CATHEDRAL AND WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 

St* Paul s Cathedral stands upon a hill, and if the 
London skies were clearer, its dome — one of the highest 
in the world — would be visible many miles away. As it is, 
the immense hemisphere can be seen, like a cloud, from the 
hills of Hampstead and Highgate, and in the view from the 
river it towers high above all the buildings that surround it. 
It is hemmed in on all sides by shops and warehouses; and 
if we stand at the farthest side of the narrow little street that 
borders it on the north, we have to throw our heads far back 
on our shoulders in order to see its full height. 

At one time, the site was said to have been occupied by a 
temple dedicated to Diana; but that statement is now dis¬ 
credited, though the ground, in all probability, has been the 
site of the chief religious edifice of London since the Saxon 
period. The earliest church was built on this site by Ethel- 
bert, the King of East Kent, and the first bishop who 
preached within its walls was Mellitus, the companion of 
Saint Augustine. 

Some time after Mellitus, Saint Erkenwald had charge of the 
church, and was buried in it. He often preached to the wood¬ 
men in the forests that belted London, and on going forth one 
day, a wheel of his vehicle came off in a slough, stopping his 
farther progress. T hose who were looking for him would 
have waited in vain had he been an ordinary man; but be¬ 
fore and after his death he worked many miracles; and now 


39 2 Young Folks' History of London. 

the one wheel left became invested with special powers of 
balancing, and it went on, with the smiling saint, as steadily 
as a bicycle. After his death there was a contest for his 
body between the monks of Chertsey and the clergy of St. 
Paul’s. The latter took it from the convent at Barking; but 
they were followed by the nuns and the monks, who prayed 
that the River Lea would prevent them from crossing with 
their sacred burden. The river rose in a flood, in response 
to these supplications; and it seemed that St. Paul’s would 
never enshrine its sainted bishop, for there was no boat and 
no bridge. A pious man exhorted the monks to peace, how¬ 
ever, and begged them to leave the matter to Heaven. The 
clergy of the Cathedral then sang a litany, and the Lea at 
once subsided, allowing them to ford it, and to carry the 
remains to their sanctuary. From that time, it is said that 
the shrine of Erkenwald became a source of wealth and 
power to the Cathedral. 

The Saxon kings were generous to St. Paul’s, and William 
the Conqueror freed the church from all payments and ser¬ 
vices to the Crown. “ I wish that this church may be free 
in all things,” he said, “as I wish my soul to be on the Day 
of Judgment.” 

The original church was destroyed by fire in 1087, and was 
replaced by a more splendid building, with a vast crypt, in 
which the remains of Saint Erkenwald were enshrined. This 
was nearly entirely burned down in the reign of King 
Stephen, but it was gradually restored. Instead of a dome, 
it now had a spire five hundred and twenty feet high, which 
was partly destroyed by lightning in 1444. The Cathedral 
itself was again partly burned, but was once more rebuilt, in 
1 566. 

For centuries, the Cathedral had prominence in nearly all 
the affairs of Church and State. In it King John admitted 
the supremacy of the Pope ; and it was the scene of one of 








































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































« 


1 5 2 7 


Burning the Bible. 


395 


those great meetings of Prelates and Barons that led to 
King John’s concession of Magna Charta. In it, also, John 
Wickliffe appeared, attended by John of Gaunt, to answer a 
charge of heresy; and William Sawtre, the first English mar¬ 
tyr, was stripped of his vestments before being sent to the 
stake at Smithfield. Folkmotes were held in the Church¬ 
yard, and more than one popular uprising had its centre 
there. On Shrove Tuesday, 1527, the Protestant Bible was 
publicly burned in St. Paul’s by Cardinal Wolsey. • 

The mediaeval church was of great magnificence, and in 
the interior was a vista of Gothic arches seven hundred feet 
long. The walls were adorned by pictures, shrines, and curi¬ 
ously wrought tabernacles. Gold and silver, rubies, emer¬ 
alds, and pearls glittered in splendid profusion, and the high 
altar was loaded with gold and silver plate and illuminated 
missals. 

The church was crowded with monuments and relics, among 
the last-named being the two arms of Milletus, — which, 
strangely enough, were of different sizes. But the chief orna¬ 
ment was the shrine of Erkenwald, upon which three gold¬ 
smiths had worked for a year; and the very dust around it 
was said to work instantaneous cures. Attached to it was an 
oblation-box; and so many pence were deposited in this 
receptacle that it produced an annual sum of about $45,000 
for the benefit of the Dean and Chapter. There were other 
things which drew forth the tribute of believers, — a knife 
said to have belonged to the Saviour; milk from the Virgin; 
the blood of Saint Paul; the hand of Saint John ; the hair of 
Mary Magdalene ; and the skull of Thomas a Becket. The 
people were simple then, and their credulity exposed them 
to very transparent deceptions. 

Early in the sixteenth century the Cathedral was used for 
secular purposes, and was, says Hare, an exchange rather 
than a church. Allusions to it occur in Shakespeare, and 


396 Young Folks History of London. 

some account of its condition has already been given by us 
in Chapter IV. The chantry and other chapels were used 
for stores and lumber—one as a school, and another as a 
glazier’s workshop; some of the vaults were let out to a 
carpenter, others were used as wine-cellars ; and the cloisters 
were rented to trunkmakers, whose “ knocking and noyse ” 
greatly disturbed the church service. Houses were built 
against the outer walls, in which closets and window-ways 
were made; one house was used as a theatre, and in another 
the owner baked his bread and pies in an oven excavated 
within a buttress. For a trifling fee, the bell-ringers allowed 
mischievous persons to ascend the tower and throw stones at 
the passengers beneath. The Cathedral was, indeed, what 
Barnum would call a “ great consolidated show,” and the 
scene was like that at a fair. Feats of tight-rope dancing 
were performed on the battlements of the Cathedral in the 
presence of Edward the Sixth ; and Queen Mary, on the day 
of her coronation, was a spectator at the performance of a 
Dutchman who stood on the weather-cock of the steeple 
waving a streamer five yards long. “ Cheats, gulls, assassins, 
and thieves thronged the middle aisle of St. Paul’s,” says 
Thornbury in “ Old and New London ; ” “advertisements of 
all kinds covered the walls; the worst class of servants came 
there to be hired ; worthless rascals and disreputable flaunt¬ 
ing women met there by appointment. Parasites hunting for 
a dinner hung about a monument of the Beauchamps, fool¬ 
ishly believed to be the tomb of the good Duke Humphrey. 
Shakespeare makes Falstaff hire red-nosed Bardolph in St. 
Paul’s, and Ben Jonson lays the third act of his ‘ Every 
Man in his Humor ’ in the middle aisle. Bishop Earle, in 
his ‘ Microcosmography,’ describes the noise of the crowd of 
idlers in St. Paul’s ‘ as that of bees, — a strange kind of hum, 
mixed by walking tongues and feet, — a kind of still roar or 
loud whisper.’ He describes the crowd of young curates, 


1620. 


An Attempted Restoration. 


39 7 


copper captains, thieves, and dinnerless adventurers and 
gossip-mongers.” 

The reputed tomb of Duke Humphrey was the haunt 
of needy men about town; and hence it became cus¬ 
tomary to say, when a man had gone without his dinner, that 
he had taken it with Duke Humphrey. “ It was the fashion 
of the times,” says an old writer, “ for the principal gentry, 
lords, commons, and all professions, not merely mechanick, 
to meet in St. Paul’s Church by eleven, and walk in the mid¬ 
dle aisle till twelve, and after dinner from three to six, during 
which time some discoursed of business, others of newes.” 

Though the sacrilege was suppressed, the building re¬ 
mained in a ruinous state, and in 1620 an attempt was made 
to restore it under the direction of James the First; but little 
was done, and some stone which had been collected for the 
repairs was “ borrowed ” by the King’s favorite, the Duke of 
Buckingham, who used it for his Strand palace, — a part of it 
being devoted to the water-gate, which may still be seen in 
the gardens of the Thames Embankment. 

Under Charles the First more determined efforts were 
made to restore the building, especially by Archbishop Laud, 
and the King took an interest in the work, which was put into 
the hands of Inigo Jones. While it was progressing, how¬ 
ever, a storm was brewing that soon “ whistled off the King’s 
unlucky head.” A paper was found before the Archbishop’s 
house : “ Laud, look to thyself! Be assured that thy life is 

sought, as thou art the fountain of all wickedness.” So the 
message read, and soon afterward the Puritans declared 
themselves. The money subscribed for the restoration of the 
Cathedral was seized ; the scaffolding around the new tower 
was pulled to pieces in order to raise cash for the payment of 
a regiment; the copes of the clergy were burned to extract 
the gold, and the proceeds sent to the persecuted Protestant 
poor in Ireland ; the silver vessels were sold to buy artillery 


39 § 


Young Folks History of London. 

for Cromwell; the east end of the church was walled in for 
a Puritan lecturer; the graves were desecrated; the choir 
became a cavalry barracks; the portico was rented to huck¬ 
sters, who lodged in the rooms above; and the pulpit was 
destroyed. 

Not until Charles the Second mounted his father’s throne 
did the great Cathedral receive any reverential care, and then 
steps were taken for a complete renovation of the building; 
but while the plans were as yet undecided, the Great Fire 
broke out and reduced St. Paul’s to ashes. “ It was aston¬ 
ishing,” says Evelyn, “ to see what immense stones the heat 
had in a manner calcined, so that the ornaments flew off, 
even to the very roof, where a sheet of lead covering a great 
space was totally melted.” 

Nearly eight years elapsed after the Fire before the ruins of 
the old Cathedral were cleared from the site. Parts of the 
walls were blown down with gunpowder, and some were 
levelled by a battering-ram; the stone being used to build 
parish churches and to pave neighboring streets. The work 
of reconstruction was given to the great architect, Sir Chris¬ 
topher Wren, and on June 21, 1675, the stone of the new 
St. Paul’s was laid. 

The building was completed in thirty-five years, and it is 
this which we see to-day, — the third Cathedral which has 
occupied the site; the first having been that erected by 
Ethelbert, and the second that which was erected after the 
fire of 1087. 'The opening services (1697) were of thanks¬ 
giving for the Peace of Ryswick, which seated William firmly 
on the English throne ; and the text of the sermon was, “ I 
was glad when they said unto me, Let us go into the house 
of the Lord.” Ever since then, daily services have been 
held in the church. 

The cost of the building was nearly four million dollars, and 
it was paid by a tax on every chaldron of coal brought into 


i 88 3 . 


New St. Paul's. 


399 


London, so that it has been said that the smoky appearance 
ot the exterior is fully justified. The lower part of the ex¬ 
terior is of the Corinthian style of architecture, while the 
upper is composite. “ The interior,” says Hare, in his val¬ 
uable handbook, “ is not without a grandeur of its own ; but 
in detail it is bare, cold, and uninteresting, though Wren 
intended to have lined the dome with mosaics, and to have 
placed a grand baldacchino in the choir. Though a com¬ 
parison with St. Peter’s inevitably forces itself upon those 
who are familiar with the great Roman basilica, there can 
scarcely be a greater contrast than between the two build¬ 
ings. There, all is blazing with precious marbles; here, 
there is no color except from the poor glass of the eastern 
windows, or where a tattered banner waves above a hero’s 
monument. In the blue depths of the misty dome the 
London fog loves to linger, and hides the remains of some 
feeble frescos by Thornhill, Hogarth’s father-in-law.” 

It must be admitted, indeed, that while the proportions of 
the Cathedral are magnificent, it does not gratify the eye 
by the formal classicism of its architecture, as would the 
fretted and enriched Gothic style. Had Wren’s plans been 
adhered to, the interior decorations would have been of rich 
mosaic ; but he was interfered with, and inside the Cathedral, 
as outside, the effect is chilly, and uninspiring to the imagina¬ 
tion. 

When eighty-six years old, Wren was dismissed without 
apology from his post of Surveyor of Public Works, and the 
German Court, hostile to all who had served under the 
Stuarts, gave his place to a charlatan named Benson. Once 
a year, however, the great architect was carried from his 
house at Hampton Court to St. Paul’s, that he might con¬ 
template the chief work of his genius. His was the first 
grave dug in the new St. Paul’s, and it lies in the place of 
honor in the extreme east of the crypt, bearing on it the 


400 Young Folks History of London. 

words : “ Reader, if thou wouldst search for his monument, 

look around.” 

The clergy of St. Paul’s were for a long time unwilling to 
allow the erection of monuments in the Cathedral; but their 
opposition was at last overcome. The earliest statue ad¬ 
mitted was that of Howard, the prison philanthropist, and the 
second that of Dr. Johnson, who was buried at Westminster. 
The next monument erected was that by Flaxman of Sir 
Joshua Reynolds, and the fourth was of Sir William Jones, 
who opened “ the poetry and wisdom of our Indian empire 
to wondering Europe.” Henceforward the Cathedral was 
set apart for memorials of naval and military heroes (with a 
few exceptions, including J. M. W. Turner, the celebrated 
landscape-painter) ; and in it we find monuments to Ad¬ 
miral Rodney, Admiral Lord Lyons, Lord Nelson, Lord 
Collingwood, Admiral Earl Howe, Admiral Charles Napier, 
Captain Robert Morse, Captain Edmond Riou, General 
Charles Napier, the Earl of St. Vincent, and the Duke of 
Wellington. 

The remains of Nelson are deposited under an altar-tomb 
in the middle of the crypt. The sarcophagus was made by 
order of Cardinal Wolsey, and from the time of ‘that prelate 
until the death of the famous Admiral it had been left unused 
in the tomb-house adjoining St. George’s Chapel, Windsor. 
The coffin was made from part of the mainmast of the ship 
“ L’Orient,” which was blown up at the Battle of the Nile. 
Nelson’s flag was to have been placed with it; but just as the , 
coffin was about to be lowered, the sailors rent the flag 
into pieces, and each kept a fragment. 

In a huge sarcophagus resting on lions are the remains of 
the Duke of Wellington, who was buried in presence of 
fifteen thousand spectators; and near by is the funeral car, 
which was built, at a cost of $65,000, from guns taken in his 
different campaigns. 


ST. PAUL’S, FROM THE RIVER. 






































































































































































































f 

? 














i 88 3 - 


Dimensions of St. Paul's. 


403 


A few words may be added about the dimensions of the 
Cathedral. It is 2,292 feet in circumference, and the height 
from the pavement of the nave to the top of the cross on the 
dome is 365 feet. The length from east to west is 500 feet, 
and from north to south 250 feet. The diameter of the 
dome is 100 feet, and its length from the ground line is 215 
feet. Around the interior of the do'me, at its base, is a whis¬ 
pering gallery, in which words spoken in the lowest tone of 
voice may be heard from one side to the other with the 
greatest distinctness ; and on the same level is the clock, with 
a pendulum sixteen feet long. Above the whispering gallery 
is the stone gallery, and higher still the golden gallery, to both 
of which visitors are admitted. The highest accessible point 
is the hollow ball, which is surmounted by the cross. This 
is reached by 616 steps; and when the air is clear the view 
of the city from it is very impressive. 

Westminster Abbey is not as harmonious a whole as St. 
Paul’s; the latter, as we have seen, was built from the plans 
of one man, and represents one period : it is, comparatively 
speaking, a modern edifice, all vestiges of the original build¬ 
ing, except a few monuments, having been destroyed in re¬ 
peated fires. But the Abbey has been increased and renovated 
at different times under the influence of different ideas. One 
side of its exterior is nearly hidden ; and though the other 
side has a more advantageous point of view than any part of 
St. Paul’s, yet it is in the interior that the full beauty of the 
Abbey is revealed. No other sensation in the round of 
travel can be compared, we think, to the thrill which a per¬ 
son of English birth or of English descent must feel when 
he reverentially stands in the soft twilight under the Gothic 
arches. 

Here nine centuries of English history are enshrined, and 
the roof covers more immortal dust than any other in the 


404 Young Folks History of London . 

whole world. Here, as Archdeacon (late Canon) Farrar says, 
“ the Puritan divines thundered against the errors of Rome ; 
here the Romish preachers anathematized the apostasies of 
Luther. These walls have heard the voice of Cranmer as he 
preached before the Boy-King on whom he rested the hopes of 
the Reformation, and the voice of Feckenham as he preached 
before Philip of Spain and Mary Tudor. They have heard 
South shooting the envenomed arrows of his wit against the 
Independents, and Baxter pleading the cause of toleration. 
They have heard Bishop Bonner chanting the Mass in his 
mitre, and Stephen Marshall preaching at the funeral of Pym. 
Here Romish bishop and Protestant dean, who cursed each 
other when living, lie side by side in death ; and Queen Eliza¬ 
beth, who burned Papists, and Queen Mary, who burned 
Protestants, share one quiet grave, as they once bore the 
same uneasy crown.” 

Hung from the walls and pillars there are cards bearing 
quotations from what celebrated people have said of the 
Abbey; and the greater the speaker or writer, the greater is 
the appreciation shown of the deep and varied suggestiveness 
of the great sanctuary. 

Wordsworth has written : 

“They dreamed not of a perishable home 
Who thus could build. Be mine, in hours of fear 
Or grovelling thought, to seek a refuge here, 

And through the aisles of Westminster to roam, 

Where bubbles burst, and folly’s dancing foam 
Melts, if it cross the threshold.” 

“ On entering,” says Irving, “ the magnitude of the build¬ 
ing breaks fully upon the mind. The eye gazes with wonder 
at clustered columns of gigantic dimensions, with arches 
springing from them to such an amazing height. It seems 
as if the awful nature of the place presses down upon the 
soul, and hushes the beholder into noiseless reverence. We 




CHAPEL OF HENRY VII.’s, WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 



















































































































































































1700. Addison’s Essay on the Abbey. 407 

feel that we are surrounded by the congregated bones of the 
great men . of past times, who have filled history with their 
deeds, and earth with their renown.” 

Addison says, in a beautiful essay : “ When I am in a 
serious humor, I very often walk by myself in Westminster 
Abbey, where the gloominess of the place, and the use to 
which it is applied, with the solemnity of the building, and 
the condition of the people who lie in it, are apt to fill the 
mind with a kind of melancholy, or rather thoughtfulness, that 
is not disagreeable. When I look upon the tombs of the great, 
every notion of envy dies in me; when I read the epitaphs 
of the beautiful, every inordinate desire goes out; when I 
meet with grief of parents upon a tombstone, my heart melts 
with compassion ; when I see the tombs of the parents them¬ 
selves, I consider the vanity of grieving for those whom we 
must quickly follow. When I see kings lying by the side of 
those who deposed them; when I consider rival wits placed 
side by side, or the holy men that divided the world with 
their contests and disputes, — I reflect with sorrow and aston¬ 
ishment on the little competitions, factions, and debates of 
mankind. When I read the several dates of the tombs, of 
some that died yesterday, and some six hundred years ago, 
I consider that Great Day when we shall all of 11s be contem¬ 
poraries, and make our appearance together.” 

“The moment I entered Westminster Abbey,” Edmund 
Burke declared, “ I felt a kind of awe pervade my mind 
which I cannot describe ; the very silence seemed sacred.” 

Tickell the poet wrote : 

“ Oft let me range the gloomy aisles alone. 

Sad luxury! to vulgar minds unknown, 

Along the walls where speaking marbles show 
What worthies form the hallowed mould below; 

Proud names, who once the reins of empires held; 

In arms who triumphed, or in arts excelled; 


408 Young Folks History of London. 

Chiefs, graced with scars, and prodigal of blood; 

Stern patriots, who for sacred freedom stood; 

Just men, by whom impartial laws were given ; 

And saints, who taught and led the way to heaven.” 

Referring to the fact that the coronation of the monarchs 
of England takes place in the Abbey, Jeremy Taylor said : 
“ A man may read a sermon, the best and most passionate 
that ever man preached, if he shall but enter into the sepul¬ 
chres of kings. . . . Where our kings have been crowned, 
their ancestors lie interred, and they must walk over their 
grandsire’s head to take his crown. There is an acre sown 
with royal seed, the copy of the greatest change, from rich to 
naked, from ceiled roofs to arched coffins, from living like 
gods to die like men. There is enough to cool the flames of 
lust, to abate the heights of pride, to appease the itch of cov¬ 
etous desires, to sully and dash out the dissembling colors 
of a lustful, artificial, and imaginary beauty. There the war¬ 
like and the peaceful, the fortunate and the miserable, the' 
beloved and the despised princes mingle their dust, and pay 
down their symbol of mortality, and tell all the world that, 
when we die, our ashes shall be equal to kings’, and our 
accounts easier, and our pains or our crowns shall be less.” 

But more quotable than the rest is Washington Irving, from 
whose essay we will make one more extract: “ I wandered 
among what once were chapels, but which are now occupied 
by the tombs and monuments of the great. At every turn I 
met with rare illustrious names, or the cognizance of some 
powerful house renowned in history. As the eye darts into 
these dusky chambers of death, it catches glimpses of quaint 
effigies; some kneeling in niches, as if in devotion; others 
stretched upon the tombs, with hands piously pressed to¬ 
gether ; warriors in armor, as if reposing after battle ; prelates 
with croziers and mitres; and nobles in robes and coronets, 
lying as it were in state. In glancing over this scene, so 



616. Foundation of the Abbey. 409 

strangely' populous, yet where every form is so still and silent, 
it seems almost as if we were treading a mansion of that 
fabled city where every being has been suddenly transmuted 
into stone.” 

Opinion may be divided as to the taste of some of the 
monuments or the worthiness of the persons commemorated; 
but the whole effect of the innumerable tombs, which are 
nearly all associated with some form of distinction, and en¬ 
shrine, as we have said, nine centuries of English history, 
must stir even the dullest mind, and produce a vibration even 
in the least impressionable of temperaments. 

When the first church was built, the site was almost insu¬ 
lated by the Thames and a little stream, the Eye (now a 
sewer), which gave its name to Tyburn : it was called Thor- 
ney Island, or the Isle of Thoms. The builder was Sebert, 
King of the East Saxons, who died in 616, after having been 
baptized by Milletus, the Bishop of St. Paul’s. According to 
a legend, Edric, a fisherman, was watching his nets on the 
shore of the island on the Sunday night preceding the day 
on which Milletus was to consecrate the church. While thus 
engaged he saw a light on the opposite shore, and on ap¬ 
proaching it, found an old man who desired to be ferried 
across the stream. Arriving at the island, the mysterious 
stranger landed, and proceeded to the church, calling up on 
his way, by two blows of his staff, two springs of water, which 
still exist. Then a host of angels miraculously appeared, and 
held candles, which lighted him as he went through all the 
usual forms of a church consecration, while throughout the ser¬ 
vice other angels were seen ascending and descending over 
the church, as in Jacob’s vision. When the old man returned 
to the boat, he bade Edric tell Mellitus that the church was 
already consecrated by Saint Peter, who held the keys of 
heaven, and promised that a plentiful supply of fish would 
never fail him as a fisherman if he ceased to work on a Sun- 


4to Young Folks History of London. 

day, and did not forget to bear to the church a tithe of that 
which he caught. 

On the following day, when Mellitus came to consecrate 
the church, Edric presented himself and told his story, show¬ 
ing, in proof of it, the marks of consecration in the traces of 
the chrism, the crosses on the doors, and the droppings 
of the angelic candles. The Bishop acknowledged that his 
work had been already done by saintly hands, and changed 
the name of the place from Thorney to Westminster (min¬ 
ster west of St. Paul’s, which was once known as East min¬ 
ster) ; and in remembrance of the story of Edric a tithe of 
fish was paid by the Thames fishermen to the Abbey, till 
1382, the bearer having a right to sit that day at the prior’s 
table, and to ask for bread and ale from the cellarman. 

Sebert’s church, though not completed for three hundred 
and sixty-one years, was in a decayed condition when Ed¬ 
ward the Confessor erected in its place a church and abbey 
much finer than any that had yet been in England, and 
gave to it a golden crown and sceptre to be used on the day 
of the sovereign’s coronation, — a ceremony which, from the 
time of Edward the First to that of Queen Victoria has al¬ 
ways taken place here. The church was dedicated on Dec. 
28, 1065, and the Confessor, who died eight days afterward, 
was buried in front of the high altar at his own request. 
Nothing of this building now remains except the Chapel of 
the Pyx, the lower part of the Refectory underlying the 
Westminster schoolroom, part of the Dormitory, and the whole 
of the lower walls of the South cloister ; but the Bayeux tap¬ 
estry still shows us in outline the church of the Confessor as 
it was when in its glory. 

The church was rebuilt by Henry the Third, and by him 
the tomb of the Confessor was removed to its present shrine 
in 1269. The parts of the present building built by him are 
the Confessor’s chapel, the side aisles and their chapels, and 





WESTMINSTER PALACE 





























































































































































































1502. 


Chapel of Henry the Seventh. 


413 


the choir and transepts. The work of Henry was continued 
by his son, Edward the First, who built the eastern portion 
of the nave; and it was carried on by different abbots till the 
great west window was erected by Abbot Estney in 1498. 
Meantime Abbot Littlington, in 1380, had added the College 
Hall, the Abbot’s House, Jerusalem Chamber, and part of the 
cloisters. In 1502 Henry the Seventh pulled down the Lady 
Chapel, and built his beautiful perpendicular chapel instead. 
The western towers were completed, in 1714, by Sir Christo¬ 
pher Wren, under whose direction the exterior was altered in 
some of its details. But the outward aspect of the Abbey is 
much as it was in the time of Henry the Seventh. 

The general plan of the church is cruciform, and it con¬ 
tains twelve chapels. For centuries it has been a custom to 
erect some memorial to great Englishmen here, even when 
their remains have been buried elsewhere; and the roof 
covers hundreds of monuments, some merely life-sized busts, 
and others elaborate sculptured allegories. Archdeacon Far¬ 
rar says that all these allegorical designs seem to him to be 
smitten with the fatal blight of unreality. “ It is obvious that 
the sculptors and designers were chiefly occupied with a sense 
of their own ingenuity, instead of being inspired by the gran¬ 
deur of their subjects. Yet we should always bear in mind 
that even the worst monument in the Abbey has its historical 
significance. Its allegories, its ugliness, its obtrusiveness, are 
like tide-marks which indicate the height or the depth to 
which the taste of the age had risen or sunk. 

“ How deep, for instance, is the significance of the fact 
that as age after age advances, the tombs seem to grow more 
and more worldly, less and less religious. They seem more 
and more to thrust on our notice the pomposities of life, and 
less and less the awful stillness and humiliation of death. The 
tombs of the Plantagenet kings and crusaders represent 
them lying in death with the hands clasped in prayer across 


414 Young Folks History of London. 

the breast. But as time advances, the effigies gradually rise 
to their knees, then to their feet. Then they deal in stately 
or impassioned gesticulation, like Pitt and Chatham. At last 
they seem to have lost the last touch of awful reverence, and, 
like Wilberforce, with a broad smile upon their lips, they loll 
in marble upon their easy chairs.” 

The number of monuments in the Abbey is bewildering; 
and they are so crowded together that they prevent a com¬ 
prehensive view of the building, and divert the eye from its 
splendid proportions to their own details. The nave, choir, 
and transepts are open, and not greatly encumbered; but 
the entire eastern end of the Abbey is walled and subdi¬ 
vided into small chapels, rich in architecture, and incom¬ 
parable in historic interest. 

Nothing is more impossible than an attempt to see this 
great sanctuary in one visit, which can only lead to perplexity 
and misunderstandings. One day at least should be given 
to a general survey of the building, and several days may be 
profitably devoted to the various monuments; but a full 
appreciation of the Abbey requires many unhurried visits. It 
is in sitting down alone, or in quietly passing from tomb to 
tomb and monument to monument, with a mind refreshed 
by historic readings, that one grows attached to the place, 
perceives its beauties, and feels its meaning. “ Three visits 
may enable one to ^Westminster Abbey,” says Hare ; “but 
it requires many more than three visits to know it.” 

The ground of the chapels is mixed with little else than 
royal dust. Between the chapel of St. Benedict and that of 
St. Edmund is the tomb of four of the children of Henry the 
Third. In St. Edmund’s chapel itself is the tomb or me¬ 
morial of Eleanor de Bohun, Duchess of Gloucester, wife of 
Thomas of Woodstock, youngest son of Edward the Third; 
of William de Valence, Earl of Pembroke, half brother of 
Henry the Third; of Lord Lytton, the novelist; of Lady 


i88 3 . 


The Waxworks. 


415 


Jane Seymour; of William of Windsor, and of Blanche of 
the Tower, the infant children of Edward the Third ; of John 
of Eltham, Earl of Cornwall, second son of Edward the 
Third; and of Frances Grey, Duchess of Suffolk, niece of 
Henry the Eighth, at whose funeral the Protestant service 
was first used, after the accession of Queen Elizabeth. The 
chapel of St. Nicholas is filled with Elizabethan tombs, 
and is the especial burial-place of the Percys. In the 
centre is the tomb of Sir George Villiers and his wife, 
parents of the first Duke of Buckingham ; and close beside 
this lies the body of Queen Katharine of Valois, the spouse 
of Henry the Fifth, who is said to have been received in 
England “ as an angel of God,” though her life afterward 
was obscure and unhappy. The ambulatory opposite this 
chapel is bordered by the tomb of Edward the Third and 
the chantry of Henry the Fifth. St. Paul’s chapel contains 
the tomb of Sir Thomas Bromley, Queen Elizabeth’s chan¬ 
cellor, and of Lord Bourchier, standard-bearer to Henry the 
Fifth at Agincourt; in contrast to the mediaeval beauty of 
which is a modern statue of James Watt. The chapel of St. 
John the Baptist, which has a groined roof, a colored end- 
wall, and a sculptured arcade, contains the altar-tomb of 
William of Colchester, and the effigy is adorned with gold 
bracelets, precious stones, and a mitre covered with large 
pearls. 

From this point we can see the north transept and the north 
aisles of the choir and nave, and the twilight is pierced by the 
splendors of many lancet-windows. In the chapel of Abbot 
Islip is an effigy of that dignitary in his winding-sheet, and in 
the same neighborhood are several elaborate tombs. In a gal¬ 
lery over the chapel there is a curious collection of waxwork. 

For many centuries it was the custom at state funerals to 
expose to view in the procession a wax effigy of the deceased 
clad in the garments worn by him during life. When the 


416 Young Folks History of London . 

coffin had been deposited in the vault, the effigy was placed 
either over the tomb as a temporary substitute for the stone 
monument, or in some other convenient spot. 

Several of these effigies are preserved in the chamber over 
Abbot Islip’s chapel. One is of Queen Elizabeth, with pale, 
hawk-like features. She is attired in an extravagantly long- 
waisted dress, and springing from the bodice is a pair of 
immense paniers supporting a velvet robe covered with gold 
embroidery and trimmed with minever; around the neck is a 
spreading ruff stiffened with wire, and from this the long 
straight, stiff bodice descends, made stiffer and heavier by a 
mass of rich silver embroidery. A wax effigy of Charles the 
Second greatly resembles the portrait of that monarch by 
Lely. It is clad in red and blue velvet, much faded, and on 
the head is a feathered hat. 

The chamber also contains effigies of William and Mary, 
Queen Anne, a Duchess of Richmond, a Duke of Buck¬ 
ingham, Lord Chatham, and Lord Nelson. The custom, 
which was vulgarly called “ The Play of the Dead Volks,” 
was not discontinued until 1839. 

Near the chapel of Islip is the beautiful chantry of Henry 
the Fifth and the tomb of Philippa of Hainault, Queen of 
Edward the Third ; Edward himself is also buried here under 
a sculptured mass of stone and metal, with “ the monumental 
sword that conquered France ” by his side. 

We have yet to speak of the two principal chapels. Henry 
the Seventh’s chapel has been the burial-place of nearly all 
the sovereigns, from him whose name it bears, to George the 
Second. It is declared to be the first example of the per¬ 
pendicular style of architecture in England, and an enthusiast 
has called it the “miracle of the world.” “The very walls,” 
says Irving, “ are wrought into universal ornament, encrusted 
with tracery, and scooped into niches crowded with statues of 
saints and martyrs. Stone seems by the cunning labor of the 


I5°2 


Chapel of Henry the Seventh. 


417 


chisel to have been robbed of its weight and density, sus¬ 
pended aloft as if by magic, and the fretted roof achieved with 
the wonderful minuteness and airy security of a cobweb.” 
The brass gates are adorned with all the badges of the 



THE CORONATION-CHAIR. 


founder : the fleur-de-lis, the portcullis and crown, the united 
roses of York and Lancaster, and the three lions of England. 
This chapel contains no less than seventy-three statues, and 
in every direction the ornamentation is profuse. 













































































































































418 Young Folks History of London. 

The tomb of the King and his Queen, Elizabeth of York, by 
whose marriage the long-continued feud between the Houses 
of York and Lancaster was ended, is chiefly of black marble 
surrounded by pilasters, statuettes, and alto-relievos of gilt 
copper. In the same vault rests the body of James the First; 
and close by it is the tomb of the learned boy-king, Edward 
the Sixth, who died when only fifteen years old. The stalls 
of the Knights of the Bath are around the chapel, and in the 
centre is the vault wherein George the Second and Queen 
Caroline are buried, side by side with the Princess of Wales, 
two Dukes of Cumberland, the Duke of York, Prince Fred¬ 
erick William, and the Princesses Amelia, Caroline, Elizabeth, 
Louisa, and Anne. Here also is the tomb of Queen Mary 
and Queen Elizabeth, of Edward the Fifth and his brother 
(the two princes murdered in the Tower by order of Richard 
the Third), of Charles the Second, of Mary Queen of Scots, 
of William and Mary, of Queen Anne, and of many other 
royal persons of less note. Inappropriately placed among 
these is the tomb of Joseph Addison, the poet and essayist. 

No words can give an idea of the luxuriance of the sculp¬ 
ture. The walls and the roof are embossed with carvings in 
stone, — knots of flowers, pendants, and armorial bearings ; 
and over all these the jewelled windows throw their rainbow 
hues. 

Oliver Cromwell and his lieutenants were once buried 
among the kings whose successor they had usurped; but at 
the Restoration their bodies were exhumed and their places 
taken by some of the illegitimate children of the dissolute 
Charles the Second. 

When Edward the Confessor was buried he had his crown 
upon his head, his pilgrim’s ring upon his finger, and a gold 
chain and crucifix around his neck. The body was seen with 
these accoutrements by Henry the First and Henry the Sec¬ 
ond ; and they were not removed until the coronation of 


1422. 


419 


Tomb of Henry the Fifth. 

James the Second, when they were presented to that King. 
One end of the shrine was for some time left open, so that 
sick persons might creep through to benefit by touching the 
coffin ; but the body is now shut within a shrine of marble 
and mosaic. By the side of Edward lies his wife Edith, the 
sister of Harold, and near the steps by which his shrine is 
reached is the tomb of Henry the Third; while close by is 
the tomb of Edward the First and of Eleanor his wife, mother 
of Edward the Second. 

The next tombs are those of Edward the Third and Rich¬ 
ard the Second; and at the eastern end of the Confessor’s 
Chapel is the splendid tomb of Henry the Fifth, shaped to 
resemble the first letter of his name, and adorned to repre¬ 
sent the glories of Westminster in the persons of its two 
founders, and the glories of the two kingdoms which the 
victor of Agincourt had united, — England and France. 
Among the heraldic emblems on the tomb is the flaming 
beacon which he took for a badge, “ showing,” says an old 
writer, “ that he had shaken off his evil counsellors, and 
being now on his high imperial throne, that his virtues should 
shine as the light of a cresset, which is no ordinary light.” 

Over the tomb were hung his shield, his helmet, and his 
saddle. “The shield has lost its splendor, but is still there,” 
says Dean Stanley. “ The saddle is that on which he 

‘Vaulted with such ease into his seat, 

As if an angel dropped down from the clouds, 

To witch the world with noble horsemanship.’ 

The helmet, — which from its elevated position has almost 
become a part of the architectural outline of the Abbey, and 
on which many a Westminster boy has wonderingly gazed 
from his place in the choir — is in all probability ‘ that very 
casque that did affright the air at Agincourt,’ which twice 
saved his life on that eventful day — still showing in its dints 
the marks of the ponderous sword of the Duke of Alengon — 


420 Young Folks History of London. 

1 the bruised helmet/ which he refused to have borne in state 
before him on his triumphal entry into London, ‘ for that he 
would have the praise chiefly given to God.’ ” 

In front of the screen, facing the foot of St. Edward’s 
shrine, stand the coronation chairs, which at coronations 
are moved to the middle of the chancel. One of them, 
scratched and battered by irreverent visitors, is the chair dec¬ 
orated for Edward the First. In it was enclosed by Edward 
the Third (1328) the famous prophetic or fatal stone of 
Scone, on which the Scottish kings were crowned, and with 
which the destinies of the Scottish rule were believed to be 
inwoven. The legend of the stone relates that it was the 
pillow on which the Patriarch Jacob slept at Bethel when he 
saw the vision of the ladder reaching to heaven. 

The stone was brought to England by Edward the First, 
and is inserted beneath the seat of the chair, with ,an iron 
handle on either side, so that it may be lifted up. The chair 
is of oak, and was once entirely covered with gilding and 
painting, now worn away with time and injured by the nails 
which have been driven in when it has been covered with 
cloth of gold at the coronations. In this chair all the kings 
of England since the time of Edward the First have been 
crowned, and even Cromwell was installed in it as Lord Pro¬ 
tector in Westminster Hall, on the one occasion on which it 
was carried out of the church. 

The second chair was made for the coronation of Mary the 
Second, and has been used ever since for the royal consort. 

In describing the chapels, we have only mentioned the 
most prominent monuments, and the limits of our space com¬ 
pel us to pass by without even a word all except the most 
notable memorials in the other parts of the Abbey, though at 
every step we are reminded of the heroes of great wars, of 
the explorers of untrodden lands, of the discoverers of natural 
laws, of poets, philanthropists, and divines, of the men who 


18S3. A Group of Literary Tombs. 421 

have carved their names on the tablets of English history, and 
worn the laurel of fame on their brows. In the south transept 
is Poet’s Corner, which is as rich in its tombs and monuments 
of authors as Henry the Seventh’s chapel is of kings. Here 
is the tomb of Chaucer, of Cowley, and of Spenser among the 
earlier ones, while conspicuous among the tombs of our own 
times is the brass-lettered stone which lies over the resting-place 
of Charles Dickens. In Poet’s Corner also are monuments to 
Dryden, Drayton, Milton, Butler, Ben Jonson, Shakespeare, 
Gray, Shadwell, Thomson, Goldsmith, and Thackeray. It has 
been truly said that the “ visitors linger about these memorials 
as about the tombs of friends. A kinder and fonder feeling 
takes the place of that cold curiosity or vague admiration 
with which they gaze on the splendid monuments of the great 
and heroic.” Henry the Fifth and Henry the Seventh, mag¬ 
nificent as their shrines are, do not reach the heart ; but the 
author of “ Paradise Lost ” and the author of the “ Elegy-” 
might have been friends who died yesterday, they seem so 
intimate. 

In the south transept is the grave of Richard Cumberland, 
of Sheridan, of Dr. Johnson, and of David Garrick; while 
elsewhere in the building are the tombs or monuments (among 
others of equal or greater interest) of William Congreve, Sir 
Isaac Newton, Lord Chief Justice Mansfield, Mrs. Siddons, 
Lord Macaulay, Warren Hastings, William Pitt, Charles James 
Fox, George Canning, William Wilberforce, George Fred¬ 
erick Handel, General Wolfe, Sir Humphry Davy, Sir John 
Franklin, Lord Palmerston, Sir Robert Peel, and Richard 
Cobden. 

At the left of the gates entering into the chapels is the tomb 
of King Sebert, who built the earliest church on the site of 
the Abbey. 

The actual traces which have been left by the American 
Revolutionary War on the walls of the Abbey are few. Says 


422 Young Folks History of London. 

Archdeacon Farrar : “ Burgoyne, whose surrender at Saratoga 
lost America to England, lies buried, not in the Abbey, but 
in the north cloister, without a monument. A small tablet in 
the southern aisle records the shipwreck and death of William 
Wragg, who, as his epitaph tells us, alone remained faithful 
to his country and loyal to his King, and was consequently 
obliged to escape from Carolina. 

“The most marked trace of the war is to be seen in the 
monument of Major Andre; and the fact that in 1812 An¬ 
dre’s body was sent back to England by the Americans, with 
every mark of courtesy and respect, shows how rapidly all 
traces of exasperation were obliterated between brother na¬ 
tions. There are several other objects which will remind 
Americans of their country. One is the beautiful window in 
honor of Herbert and Cowper at the western end of the 
nave, in the old baptistery, which was the munificent gift of 
an American citizen. The other is some faint adumbration 
of Boston Harbor, which may be seen at the opposite end 
of the Abbey, the east end of Henry the Seventh’s chapel, at 
the corner of the memorial window raised by the late Dean to 
the memory of his wife, Lady Augusta Stanley. A third is the 
tomb in the nave which was raised to Viscount Howe by the 
Province of Massachusetts. The genius of Massachusetts 
is represented weeping over the monument. Ticonderoga 
appears on the monument of Colonel Townsend. 

“ The touching bas-relief to Andr£ represents on one side a 
British officer who is carrying a flag of truce and a letter to 
the tent of General Washington, with the entreaty of Andre 
that, as a soldier, he might be shot and not hung. One of 
the American officers is weeping. The request was refused; 
but as it would have been too painful to represent Andre's 
death on the gibbet, the sculptor has represented his youthful 
and handsome figure standing at the right of the bas-relief 
before a platoon of soldiers, as though his petition had in 


1780 


Major Andre s Tomb 


423 


reality been granted. The sculptor Van Gelder has been 
very successful; but the heads of Washington and Andr£ 
have several times been knocked off and stolen by base 
and sacrilegious hands.” 

Here we must close. Macaulay has called the Abbey “ the 
temple of silence and reconciliation, where the enmities of 
twenty generations lie buried ; ” and we can think of no more 
fitting words than his. 



ST, PAUL’S CATHEDRAL. 






































































































































WESTMINSTER. 


“ But that which makes her name through earth to ring 
She is the chamber of our gracious King, 

The place in which the Parliament doeth sit 
For to determine things most requisite.” 


Old Ballad. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT. 

Any one who knows the history of the British constitution, 
and how jealously it is guarded; how flexible and yet consis¬ 
tent it is; how effectually it secures the liberty and dignity of 
the subject; how precious it is to all classes; and the long 
years of political strife of which it is the fruition,— must feel 
a thrill as, coming down through Whitehall from that busy 
centre of London, Charing Cross, he stands for the first time 
before the Houses of Parliament. 

The buildings themselves are of great beauty and size, cov¬ 
ering nearly eight acres. They are in the Tudor-Gothic 
style, and their outlines are so broken and relieved by towers, 
spires, buttresses, and fretted masonry, that they have no 
appearance of cumbrousness. Abutting on them is the 
famous Abbey; before them is Westminster Hall; and at the 
northern end is the great Clock Tower, in which the hours are 
struck on a bell that can be heard eight miles away. But it 
is not the buildings that appeal to our veneration. It is the 
principles and the history with which they are associated. 
They bring to mind and seem to embody the long chain ol 
events by which the character of the government has been 
formed, and by which the supremacy of the Crown has been 
adjusted to permit the sovereignty of the people. 

They cover the site of the palace which the ancient sover¬ 
eigns of England occupied from early Anglo-Saxon times till 
Henry the Eighth took up his abode at Whitehall. The ori¬ 
ginal palace, in which King Canute lived, is said to have been 


426 Young Folks History of London. 

burned to the ground some thirty years before the Conquest; 
but it was rebuilt by Edward the Confessor, and in it he 
entertained his destined successor, the Duke of Normandy, 
who was to become known in England as William the Con¬ 
queror. Edward died in it, and William added to it; for it is 
not to be doubted, says Stow, “ that he found it farre inferiour 
to the building of princely palaces in France.” King William 
Rufus also enlarged it by adding a great hall to it, and de¬ 
clared that this would be only a bed-chamber compared with 
a hall which he would build later. But notwithstanding his 
boast, the palace was soon afterward allowed to fall into 
decay, and early in the reign of Henry the Second it was 
almost a ruin. 

It was then restored by Thomas a Becket. King Stephen 
had some years before built a magnificent chapel in connection 
with the palace, and dedicated it to the martyr whose name 
he bore. The chapel was rebuilt by Edward the First, and 
again, after it had been burned, by Edward the Second and 
Edward the Third. Henry the Eighth added to the palace 
and chapel the Star Chamber,— so called from the use of gilt 
stars in the decoration of the ceiling; but in his reign the pal¬ 
ace itself was partly destroyed by fire, and it was abandoned 
as a royal residence. In the reign of Edward the Sixth the 
chapel was fitted up for the use of the House of Commons ; 
and that branch of the legislature sat here from 1547 to 1834, 
while the House of Lords occupied an adjoining building, 
which was destroyed in the fire of 1834 with all that re¬ 
mained of the ancient palace, the Star Chamber, and the 
chapel, except the crypt of the latter and the great Hall built 
by William Rufus and restored by Richard the Second. 

The great Hall now forms one of the entrances to the new 
Houses of Parliament, and it is much as it was when Richard 
restored it, and the poet Chaucer was clerk of the palace 
works. 



THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT. 


W. E. GLADSTONE. 






























1649- Arraignment of Charles the First. 429 

Much of the ecclesiastical history of England may be gath¬ 
ered from the annals of St. Paul’s Cathedral and Westminster 
Abbey; much of the social history from study of the parks 
and streets; and all researches into the political history of 
the kingdom must lead the seeker after knowledge into 
Westminster Hall. In the yard in front of the Hall Perkin 
Warbeck was imprisoned in the stocks for a day, and Thomas 
Lovelace had his ears cut off by order of the Star Chamber,— 
that terrible court, in which justice was violated and mercy 
was unknown. Here offenders were exposed in the pillory to 
the gibes of the crowd, and the branding-irons were pressed 
against their twitching faces. The Hall itself has been the 
scene of more tragedies than any other building in England 
except the Tower of London. Under its roof Sir William 
Wallace was condemned to death in 1305, and Sir John Old- 
castle in 1417; Edward Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, in 
1522; Sir Thomas More in 1535, and in the same year 
Fisher, Bishop of Rochester; Protector Somerset in 1551; 
Sir Thomas Wyatt in 1554; the Duke of Norfolk in 1571 ; 
the Earl of Arundel in 1589; the Earl of Essex in 1600; 
the Gunpowder Plot conspirators in 1606; the Duke and 
Duchess of Somerset for the murder of Sir Thomas Overbury 
in 1616 ; and the Earl of Strafford in 1640. 

In Westminster Hall, also, Charles the First was arraigned : 
“ During the reading of the charge the King,” says an old 
history of the trial, “ sat entirely unmoved in his chair, look¬ 
ing sometimes to the Court and sometimes to the galleries. 
Occasionally he rose up and turned about, to behold the 
guards and spectators, and then sat down again; but with a 
majestical composed countenance, unruffled by the slightest 
emotion, till the clerk came to the words : Charles Stuart , as 
a tyrant , traitor , murderer. At which the King laughed, as he 
sat, in the face of the Court. The silver head of his staff hap¬ 
pened to fall off, at which he appeared surprised. Herbert, 


430 Young Folks History of London. 

who stood near him, offered to pick it up ; but Charles, seeing 
he could not reach it, stooped for it himself. When the 
words were read stating the charge to be exhibited ‘ on behalf 
of the people of England,’ a voice in a loud tone called out, 
‘ No, nor the half of the people ; it is false ! Where are they 
or their consents? Oliver Cromwell is a traitor!’ This 
occasioned a confusion in the Court; Colonel Axtell even 
commanded the soldiers to fire into the box from which the 
voice proceeded. But it was soon discovered that these 
words, as well as a former exclamation on the calling of Fair¬ 
fax’s name, were uttered by Lady Fairfax, the general’s wife, 
who was immediately compelled by the guard to withdraw.” 

Cromwell was inaugurated at Westminster Hall in 1657; 
but afterward, when Charles the Second was restored to the 
throne, that king set the heads of the Lord Protector, Brad¬ 
shaw, and Ireton on the roof of this building, in which, through 
their instrumentality, his father had been condemned to 
death. 

A writer in the London “ Times” of Dec. 31, 1874, 
stated that the head of Cromwell was then in existence 
and in the possession of a gentleman at Sevenoaks, Kent. 
According to his account it was not blown down for twenty- 
five years, when one stormy night it fell to the ground and 
was picked up by the sentry, who took it home and secreted 
it in the chimney-corner. On his deathbed the sentry 
revealed his ghastly possession to the members of his family, 
and they sold it. It afterward passed through the hands of 
several curiosity-hunters, who bought it for public exhibition ; 
and eventually it became the property of the present owner. 

The last great trial in the Hall was that of Warren Hastings, 
which lasted seven years. Westminster Hall has other asso¬ 
ciations than its trials, however. In it Henry the Third saw 
the Archbishop and Bishops hurl their lighted torches upon 
the ground, and call down anathemas upon those who should 


1087-1820. 


Coronation Ceremonies . 


431 


break the charter he had sworn to observe. Here Edward 
the Third received the Black Prince when the latter re¬ 
turned to England with King John of France as a prisoner 
after the Battle of Poitiers. Hither came the English Barons 
with the Duke of Gloucester to denounce Robert de Vere, 
Duke of Ireland, to Richard the Second; and here, when 



OLD WESTMINSTER HALL. 


Richard abdicated, Henry Bolingbroke claimed the realm of 
England as descended by right line of blood from Henry the 
Third. 

Westminster Hall was the scene of all the Coronation ban¬ 
quets from the time of William Rufus to that of George the 
Fourth. On these occasions the gates were suddenly flung 
open, and, amid a blare of trumpets, the Royal Champion 
rode into the Hall in full armor. Hurling his mailed gaunt- 







































432 Young Folks History of London. 

let upon the ground, he defied to single combat any person 
who should gainsay the rights of the sovereign. This chal¬ 
lenge having been thrice repeated as the Champion ad¬ 
vanced up the Hall, the Sovereign pledged him in a silver 
cup, which was afterward presented to him. 

Adjoining the Hall until recently were the principal Law 
Courts; but all these are now established in the new Palace 
of Justice, near the site of Temple Bar. South of the Hall is 
Old Palace Yard, in which Sir Walter Raleigh and Guy Fawkes, 
with his fellow conspirators, were executed. In houses front¬ 
ing the Yard, Chaucer lived and Ben Jonson died. 

Let us now look at the Houses of Parliament, which are in 
the new palace, — the splendid Gothic building which was 
begun in 1840 and completed in 1859. The main public 
entrance, as we have said, is through Westminster Hall. 

Though in spirit and intention the House of Commons is 
modern, it holds to many ancient and inconvenient customs 
in transacting its business, and to an American some of the 
formalities are likely to be amusing when the awe of his first 
impression has worn off. The incongruity of these hereditary 
observances becomes all the more striking as it is mixed with 
an occasional levity of behavior and a boyishness of antics 
among the members which probably would not be tolerated 
by any other legislative body in the world. But the Com¬ 
mons have many privileges. The public cannot demand a 
place in their assemblies ; and though a spectator may be 
admitted by courtesy, he can be expelled at any moment by 
the vote of the House. 

The House is chary of its favors, and the space for visitors 
is small, admission to it being obtained either through a 
Member of Parliament, or the ambassadors of foreign courts. 
Having secured the much-coveted pass, we cross the Pal¬ 
ace Yard and enter Westminster Hall, at the end of which 
we enter a corridor decorated with large frescos, and at 


i88 3 . 


The House of Commons. 


433 


a glass door a policeman accosts us, to inquire whether we 
have a pass to the gallery. This is the end of the tether as 
lar as the unfavored public is concerned ; but our pass admits 
us through the door into a lofty rotunda, where, if any grati¬ 
fication is to be had from the experience, we may mingle 
with the chosen representatives of the English people. 

Our pass is again scrutinized by an officious door-keeper 
sitting in a wicker chair, who has held his position so long^ 
and has been so humored by the members, that he carries 
himself with greater self-exaltation than any of them. By 
him the pass is sent to the Sergeant-at-Arms, who counter¬ 
signs it; and when we have presented it to another door¬ 
keeper, we are shown into a narrow, winding, prison-like 
stairway, with stone steps and walls, at the head of which we 
come into the Gallery of the House itself. 

The building is not as well lighted, nor as well ventilated, 
nor as large, nor as well adapted to its purpose, as are the 
Chambers of Congress at Washington ; but the effect upon 
the visitor is more impressive. The light becomes mellow in 
pouring through the Gothic windows and their colored bor¬ 
ders, in which the motto is repeated, Dieu et mon Droit . 
The upholstery is of a dark material, and the ceiling, all 
the woodwork, and the walls, are dark also, as in a very old 
church. The building, in form and atmosphere, indeed, is 
strongly ecclesiastical. It is nearly square. All the floor is 
reserved for the officers of the House and the members, who 
sit on long cushioned benches, that extend parallel along 
the hall, and are divided by a wide aisle which is known as 
the gangway. At the head of the gangway is the Speaker’s 
chair; and the benches on the right-hand side are occupied 
by the Governing party, while those on the left are filled by 
the members of the Opposition. The benches below the 
gangway are in possession of the independent members, who 
give allegiance neither to the Conservatives nor the Liberals. 

28 



434 Young Folks History of London . 

At some height from the floor is a narrow gallery which 
extends all round the building. That part over the Speaker’s 
chair is given to the reporters of the newspapers, and the 
accommodation here is so limited that a score or more 
wealthy and influential journals are represented by one man. 
A similar space at the other end is devoted to strangers 
admitted by the members’orders, and the side galleries are 
intended for the members of the various legations or for 
members of the other House. 

To any one in the Strangers’ Gallery a dark vault is visi¬ 
ble over the reporters’ desks, screened by an iron scroll; 
and as we gaze at this some shadowy faces become discerni¬ 
ble, which seem to belong to a smoky picture, until they move, 
and then we see that they are alive. The enclosure up there 
is the Ladies’ Gallery; and though it has neither light nor air, 
and little can be heard in it, places are sought for by more 
than can be admitted. 

It is not easy to understand why, but instead of transacting 
its business in business hours, the House of Commons does 
not assemble until four o’clock in the afternoon ; and it some¬ 
times continues in session until three or four o’clock in the 
morning. The proceedings are opened by the entrance of two 
gentlemen in court-suits of black, — black small-clothes, black 
silk stockings, shoes with steel buttons, exquisitely frilled 
shirts, and dainty swords in black sheaths, — one of whom 
bears the heavy gold mace which emblemizes the power of the 
Speaker, and which Cromwell contemptuously called “ that 
bauble.” Following these is the Speaker himself in wig and 
gown, with his train-bearer, his chaplain, and his secretary. 
An usher then informs the persons in the lobby that “ Mr. 
Speaker is at prayers ; ” and there is a lull in the conversation, 
until the same voice announces, “ Mr. Speaker is in the 
chair,” when the members take their seats, doffing their hats 
if it is necessary to pass the Speaker, and putting them on 


1663. 


Methods of Procedure. 


435 


again immediately afterward, and wearing them through the 
proceedings, except when addressing that official. They sit 
with crossed legs and folded arms, and in any attitude which 
is most comfortable to them. 

The members of the Cabinet and the Ministry have the 
benches nearest to the Speaker’s right hand ; and half-an-hour 
having been given for the presentation of petitions, “ ques¬ 
tion-time ” comes, when the various Ministers are expected 
to be in their places to answer any questions as to the depart¬ 
ments under their control. No matter what hostile criticism 
a speech may contain, one member invariably refers to an¬ 
other as “the honorable member” if a commoner; as “the 
right honorable member ” if a member of the Privy Council; 
as “the noble lord ” if a person of title ; and as “ the honora¬ 
ble and gallant member ” if an officer of the army or navy; 
the personal names never being used ; though this punctili¬ 
ous courtesy of address often savors of irony. 

One honorable member inquires if it is true that a lady of 
the Sultan’s harem who sought refuge in the British Embassy 
and was given up, has been strangled, as an accomplice in a 
palace conspiracy. The Under-Secretary of State for For¬ 
eign Affairs assures him that such is not the case; that the 
lady is well and happy, and about to be married. Another 
honorable member is informed by the same official, in answer 
to a question as to whether a British subject in Chili has 
been treated with indignity, that a gunboat has been de¬ 
spatched to the scene. 

The interest of the debates depends on the matter under 
consideration; for the average orator of the House of 
Commons is not usually capable of vitalizing any subject he 
may have in hand ; and before adjournment a great many 
prolix, ill-balanced speeches are made in the singsong, hesi¬ 
tating manner that is so common among Englishmen. Those 
who are not speaking are usually aware of the defects of their 



436 Young Folks History of London. 

associate who is, and are not backward in expressing their 
impatience and disapprobation by groans and derisive laugh¬ 
ter. At three in the morning it is often a wonder how many 
words have been spoken and how little has been done ; and 
yet the members who endure the misery of sitting up all 
night receive, unlike the American Congressman, no salary, 
and have no opportunities for political patronage. 

In 1880, when a Bill which had been passed by a majority 
in the House of Commons was rejected by the House of 
Lords, there was a strong feeling against the latter body 
among the English Radicals and the Irish “ Home Rulers.” 
A stranger to England, reading the severe language of the 
protests, might easily have been misled into supposing that 
the legislative power of the peers would soon be curtailed, 
or taken away altogether. 

It will probably be many years, however, before the House 
of Lords is done away with. In the hearts of most English¬ 
men there is a veneration for antiquity and a mistrust of 
change ; while the innumerable small capitalists and trades¬ 
men look to their possessions, and are anxious to have things 
left alone. A greater independence of character has devel¬ 
oped in recent years, and the wearer of a coronet is no 
longer the sanctified person he used to be in the eye of the 
multitude ; but, especially at the present time, when sedition 
is felt to be rife in many of the Irish members of the 
House of Commons, the House of Lords is respected, and 
looked upon as a safeguard against extreme measures. 

I he members of the House of Lords are two archbishops 
and twenty-four bishops of the Church of England, who are 
called spiritual peers ; and the temporal peers include five 
persons of the blood royal, twenty-one dukes, nineteen mar¬ 
quises, one hundred and fifteen earls, twenty-five viscounts, 
two hundred and forty-eight barons, twenty-eight noblemen 
of Ireland, and sixteen noblemen of Scotland. 



QUEEN CAROLINE’S DRAWING-ROOM. 

































































































































































































































































































i88 3 . 


The House of Lords. 


439 


1 he title of duke is derived from the Latin word dux, a 
leader. The title of marquis was conferred upon those who 
held the command of the inarches , as the boundaries be¬ 
tween England and Wales, and between England and Scot¬ 
land, were called when those countries were hostile to eaclp 
other. The title of earl comes from the Saxon word eorl, a 
noble. The earls were called counts after the Norman Con¬ 
quest, and the shires of which they had been governors 
became known as counties. The viscount was the deputy of 
an earl, and the baron was a holder of Crown estates. 

The entrance to the House of Lords is immediately oppo¬ 
site to that of the House of Commons; but the stairway 
leading to the gallery is wider, the appurtenances are richer, 
and the ushers seem to be more polite than those of the 
latter House. 

The Lords assemble at five o’clock in the afternoon; and 
a few minutes before that hour w r e stand in the corridor 
waiting for the Lord Chancellor to take his seat on the 
woolsack; after which we are admitted into a hall more luxu¬ 
rious and beautiful than that of the Commons, — so beautiful, 
indeed, that it would not be easy to imagine anything sur¬ 
passing it. Its plan is much the same as that of the other 
House. The benches for the members are ranged from end 
to end, five deep, and upholstered with crimson stuff. At 
the head is the throne, which is a mass of rich and delicate 
carving, barred off from the rest of the House, with a mag¬ 
nificent candelabrum at each side. Above it are three large 
frescos and several statues in niches, which are continued 
along the walls. Just in front of the throne is the woolsack, 
also upholstered with crimson, which is the seat of the Lord 
Chancellor and the object of every young lawyer’s ambition, 
as the highest dignity he can possibly attain in the kingdom, 
the Lord Chancellor being the Speaker of the House and the 
chief legal adviser of the Crown. 


440 


Young Folks History of London. 


The woolsack was once exactly what its name means, — 
a sack of wool ; and if the contents have been substituted 
by any other material in modern times, its outward appear¬ 
ance is not altered. 

, The Strangers’ Gallery faces the throne, and a narrow 
gallery for ladies extends over the benches on each side of 



THE STAR CHAMBER. 

the House. The light comes through about sixteen large 
windows filled with colored glass; and wherever the eye 
falls it is on some beauty, — now on the fretted pinnacles 
and niches above the throne, or on the graven knights sta¬ 
tioned between the windows, or on the designs in the ceiling : 
and then on the richly carved oaken wainscoting, or the 
frescos, or the many-hued rays to which the windows lend 
their colors. There is no flat or barren space visible. 

When the Queen opens Parliament in person, and sits on 
the throne surrounded by her children and the ladies and 




































































































































1883. The Lord Chancellor . 441 

gentlemen of her household, and the peers wear their robes 
and coronets, and the galleries are filled with brilliantly 
dressed ladies and diplomats resplendent with their decora¬ 
tions, the scene is one to be remembered for life; even 
under ordinary circumstances it is of peculiar interest. 

When we are 'admitted into the Gallery the Lord Chan¬ 
cellor is already sitting on the woolsack in his long robes 
and curled wig, which reaches down to his shoulders ; and 
many of the members, also, are on the benches. As in the 
House of Commons, the party in power occupies the 
benches to the right of the Speaker, and the Opposition those 
to the left. Another thing worth mentioning is that when 
the chief secretary of any department belonging to the 
Cabinet is in one House, the under-secretary for the same 
department is in the other. 

The Lords may originate a Measure or Bill, and, having 
passed it, send it to the Commons ; but they cannot legislate 
in any matter affecting the revenue or taxation of the coun¬ 
try, this being reserved for the Commons alone, — and than 
this there is no more striking instance of the progress made 
in parliamentary government. 

There is more gravity and dignity, and a greater urbanity 
of manner, in the Upper House than in the Lower ; and 
in personal appearance the Lords are generally a fine set 
of men. They are simply but well dressed in afternoon 
or evening suits, with the exception of the bishops, who 
wear their surplices. They address and refer to one an¬ 
other as “ the noble lord,” or “the noble and learned 
lord ; ” and instead of appealing to the Chancellor, who is 
practically the chairman, they address their speeches to the 
whole House. 


“ I hope I ’m fond of much that’s good, 

As well as much that’s gay ; 

I'd love the country if I could; 

I like the Park in May; 

And when I ride in Rotten Row, 

I wonder why they call it so.” 

Frederick Locker. 




CHAPTER XXIII. 


THE LONDON PARKS. 


Public parks are a modern necessity of self-protection ; and 
no town with a future before it can omit them from its plans. 
Open spaces must be left where the air may be renewed, and 
the people whose lives are in the city streets may look at the 
green things which, in a wild state, are inaccessible through 
the ever-increasing environment of brick and mortar. But 
when Hyde Park was in the country, and forests intervened 
between Charing Cross and Tyburn; when from where the 
Marble Arch now is one could look southeastward to Lon¬ 
don, a small city belted with a wall, to shut out would-be 
invaders; when the houses were supplied with water running 
clear from the spring down the middle of the street; when 
the Thames had trout in it, and all lights were put out at cur¬ 
few ; when the fogs blew up the river, white or gray.from the 
sea, without being converted into liquefied soot, as they are 
now, by the belchings of hundreds of thousands of chimneys, 
— then the park was less of a necessity, and its existence was 
chiefly for the pleasure of the monarch and his favored 
courtiers. * 

In the early times of which we speak, Hyde Park, to which 
Londoners always apply the exclusive designation of “ the 
Park,” lay in the midst of virgin forests ; and the creatures who 
frequented it were not the butterflies of the fashionable world, 
but swineherds, charcoal-burners, and a few native hunters, 
who found in the thickets wild boars, wolves, deer, and smaller 


444 


Young Folks History of London. 


game. The land belonged to the Abbey of Westminster, and 
its woods afforded to the monks both firewood and shelter 
for their game and water-fowl. In possession of the monks it 
remained until King Henry the Eighth recognized its value as 
a hunting-ground, and took it to himself, so that he might 
have for his royal sport all the country from his palace at 
Westminster to Hampstead Heath. 

Long after Henry’s reign it remained in use as a hunting- 
ground for the sovereign, and among others who came to it 
was Queen Elizabeth. On such occasions, says Norden in his 
“ Survey of Middlesex and Hertfordshire,” the sport would 
conclude by one of the huntsmen offering a hunting-knife 
to the Queen, and her taking “ say ” of the buck, or, in other 
words, plunging the knife into its throat with her own fair and 
royal hand. He imagines her riding on an ambling palfrey 
through the forest glades, accompanied by “ the fiery Essex, the 
courtly Burleigh, the manly Raleigh, or that arch-plotter and 
scheming villain, Leicester.” James the First was also fond of 
the park, and frequently, says Mr. Jacob Larwood, the dryads 
and hamadryads must have seen his “ sacred Majesty ” in 
that famous costume which he wore when on his journey from 
Scotland to England, — a doublet as green as the grass he 
stood on/ with a feather in his cap and a horn by his side. 
“ Then the clear echoes, nestling in the quiet nooks and cor¬ 
ners, were awakened by the merry blasts of the horn, the hal¬ 
looing of the huntsmen cheering the dogs, and the ‘yearning’ 
of the pack as they followed the hart to one of the pools, 
where it ‘ took soil,’ and was bravely despatched by his Ma¬ 
jesty. After that followed the noisy ‘ quarry,’ in which, of 
course, Jowler and Jewel, the King’s favorite hounds, obtained 
the lion’s share. When the hunt was over, his Majesty would 
probably adjourn to the banqueting-house, which stood in the 
middle of the park, and refresh himself with a deep draught 
of sack or canary ; and in the cool of the evening, as, return- 


1637- Charles the First opens Hyde Park. 445 

ing home to Whitehall, the King crossed over the way to 
Reading (now Piccadilly), he might see in the far blue dis¬ 
tance the little village of St. Giles nestled among the trees, 
the square steeple of old St. Paul’s, and the smoking chimneys 
of his good citizens of London, while the faint evening breeze 
wafted towards him the sweet silvery sound of Bow Bells 
ringing the curfew.” 

It was Charles the First who threw open the park to the 
public; and it then became, what it has since remained, 
a stage upon which the varying fashions of the town have 
exhibited themselves ; so that an illustrated history of it would 
reveal all changes in the national costume, from the period of 
the Cavaliers to the time of the modern, sober-hued, inflexi¬ 
bly dressed dandy, with pointed shoes and corset-like coat. 
No innovation in the shape of hat or gown or gaiter, in the 
coiffure or the complexion, has shown itself elsewhere as soon 
as in the park. There, too, one might always look with the 
certainty of finding the notables of the age,— the reigning beau¬ 
ties, the ascendent statesmen, the most powerful ambassadors 
and the most radiant wits, as well as the social mountebanks, 
who, like gawky apostles of modern aestheticism, adopted ec¬ 
centricities of dress to attract the attention which their natural 
abilities would not have secured for them. Had a duel to be 
fought, the park was the chosen ground ; for in its woods the 
most embittered enemies could find an umbrage to match 
their own; while its open areas were wide enough to accom¬ 
modate both civil and military mass meetings, — the train- 
bands of the city when Charles called them to his aid against 
Cromwell; the volunteers when an invasion of England was 
threatened, and the Arm£e d’Angleterre lay encamped near 
Boulogne ; and, in more recent times, the laboring classes, 
when they have had a grievance to proclaim or an agitator 
to listen to. 

It is a many-colored and diverting procession that we see 


446 


Young Folks History of London. 


in turning over the history of the park. A footpad or a beg¬ 
gar may be found lurking here and there; but it is the gal¬ 
lants and fine ladies, the chameleons whose hue quickly 
changes to suit every caprice of fashion, that are salient 
in the picture; so that to some extent the history of the 
park is, as we have said, a history of dress, and its accom¬ 
panying pictures are fashion-plates. 

Looking back to the middle of the seventeenth century, we 
see that the effeminate absurdities of our time are nothing 
compared with the dress which the young men affected then. 
The fashionable young man spent the greater part of his time 
in the park; he wore long locks of hair hanging down from 
the temple on each side of the face, with bows of ribbon tied 
at the ends, and his face was patched with stars and half¬ 
moons, cut out of dark sticking-plaster, to show off his white 
complexion. Though in walking dress, and having no inten¬ 
tion to ride, he wore spurs on the boots; and they were so 
made that they jingled as he strode along.. There still 
remained some of the picturesque elegance of the Spanish 
costume which had been in vogue in the reign of Charles the 
First, says Mr. Larwood, and there was a novelty in the new 
riding-habit, which was called the amazone. Till then ladies 
had worn the usual walking-dress on horseback; and Pepys 
was amazed when, for the first time, he saw them attired rn 
“ coats and doublets with deep skirts, ... so that, only for 
a long petticoat dragging under their men’s coats, nobody 
would take them for women in any point whatever.’* Every 
one who had “ sparkling eyes or a splendid equipage ” 
repaired to the park, and Charles the Second himself, 
with his notorious associates, was one of the most constant 
attendants. 

The visitors did not roam over the entire space, but con¬ 
fined themselves to the “ Ring,”—a circular track enclosed by 
a railing. In the “ Tatler ” and in the “ Spectator ” there are 


177 ° 


A New Kind of Dandy. 447 

constant allusions to the brilliant crowds who frequented this 
space, which was filled with ponderous gilt chariots, drawn 






LONDON DANDY, MIDDLE OF SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 


by six horses and preceded by running footmen, who wore 
silk jackets bedecked with gold lace, tassels, and spangles. 

Anew kind of dandy appeared in 1770. It was custo¬ 
mary in the last century for young men of rank to finish their 
























































448 


Young Folks History of London. 


education by making the “ grand tour ” of the Continent; and 
a number of them, at the close of their travels, formed a club 
in St. James Street which they called the Savoir-Vivre Club, 
which oddly enough is now applied to a public-house in a 
corrupted form — “ The Savoy Weaver ” ! They had period¬ 
ical dinners, at which they introduced the now familiar, but 
then unusual, dish, macaroni; and, first applied to members 
only, this strange name was afterward used to describe all 
such exquisites as they were. 

They were the objects of as much ridicule as is the modern 
“dude.” Wearing their hair drawn high above the scalp in 
the shape of a beehive, with long curls at the side and an 
enormous chignon, they crowned this superstructure with an 
exceedingly small cocked hat. Their coats, waistcoats, and 
breeches were scant, the latter being of striped silk, with 
bunches of ribbons at the knee. They carried long canes 
decorated with silk tassels, and wore two watches, with large 
bunches of seals hanging from them. Around their necks 
they had white ties, fastened under their chins in an im¬ 
mense bow. Their calves were displayed in white stockings, 
and their feet incased in small shoes with diamond buckles. 
The ladies vied with the men in the extravagance of their 
costume, and likewise wore their hair in great puffs, which 
seemed to overbalance their bodies. A 

In the reign of George the Third the fashion of imitating 
the dress of men became conspicuous among the ladies in a 
form similar to that which we have seen in vogue, — as in the 
use of Derby hats and ulsters during recent years. They 
appeared in slouch hats, overcoats with broad belts, and 
morocco boots. The fashions of the men, on the other hand, 
became effeminate; and the Prince of Wales (afterward 
George the Fourth) aired himself in a mantle, the fur lin¬ 
ing of which is said to have cost four thousand dollars, 
while his delicate hands were nestled in a big muff. But the 


i8i 5- 


New Fashions from France. 


449 


elegance of the Prince was eclipsed by that of the famous 
Beau Brummel, who became the model of all men who 
wished to be considered well dressed. He employed two 
boot-makers, one to provide him with shoes for the right 
foot and the other for the left; three glove-makers, one of 
whom was exclusively charged with cutting out the thumbs; 
and three hairdressers, one for the front, one for the temple, 
and one for the crown. For nineteen years he led the fash¬ 
ion ; and surrounding him were many other dandies, one of 
whom spent a small fortune annually in the endeavor to cut 
as fine a figure. 

In the last winter of the eighteenth century another violent 
change had taken place in women’s dress. Hues of the 
gaudiest kind were adopted, and the materials were so spar¬ 
ingly cut that it seemed that to be well dressed was to be 
undressed. The gowns had no waists ; and this phenomenon 
was celebrated in the parody of a popular song, “ The Banks 
of the Banna.” The lines, — 

“ Shepherds, I have lost my love ; 

Have you seen my Anna ? ” 

being changed into : 

“ Shepherds, I have lost my waist; 

I Have you seen my body ? ” 

The last change had been from the antique ; and the next, 
in 1815, was from the French. It was then that those stu¬ 
pendous bonnets appeared, — 

“ So beautifully high up and poking, 

Like things that are put to keep chimneys from smoking.” 

The ladies strove to surpass each other in the brevity of 
their furbelowed skirts; and the waists which they neglected 
the men cultivated, girding up their loins without mercy, so 
that their bodies had the shape of hour-glasses. The showi¬ 
est of the dandies was a Mr. Bailey, who wore nankeen 

29 


450 


Young Folks History of London. 


trousers, fancy vests, and sky-blue coats. The cloth was 
embroidered with silver or gold ; his linen was the finest 
cambric, his stockings silk gauze, his shoes enamelled leather, 
with silver buckles, and his breeches cashmere. Though he 
dressed like a fop, Mr. Bailey was a person of robust man¬ 
ners, and gained some repute — or, we should say, ill-repute 
— by his assaults on the old watchmen, or “Charlies,” who 
preceded the policemen introduced by Sir Robert Peel. 

Let us turn our eyes now from the dresses to the faces of 
the throng, among which we see those of many old acquain¬ 
tances, — Oliver Cromwell, burly, upright, and beardless, 
reviewing his troops ; Evelyn, the diarist; Charles the Second 
and his immoral beauties; old Pepys, delighting in his own 
finery, and closely observant of that of the others ; the Duke 
of Monmouth; William the Third and “ his dull stocking¬ 
knitting spouse ; ” the great Duke of Marlborough ; Sir Rich¬ 
ard Steele, prosperous in a coach and four; Dean Swift; 
Harry Fielding; Horace Walpole; Lord Chesterfield ; George 
the Third ; Fox ; and the Duke of Wellington. 

It would be impossible even to catalogue all the celebrities 
of the park in less space than a biographical dictionary. The 
park, indeed, has been the focus of London life at all times 
since it was thrown open by King Charles; but it has not 
been merely a scene of gayety. The tragedy of passion, 
sentment, and revenge, as well as the comedy of fashion, has 
been enacted again and again in its shade. Many a bloody 
and fatal duel has been fought within its precincts. It was a 
convenient distance from town, and was unfrequented in the 
early hours of the day. There were many quiet spots where 
the combatants had no fear of intrusion, and where they 
could settle their difficulties with a yard of steel. 

Mr. Stanley, the brother of the Earl of Derby, was killed 
here by the Duke of Grafton in 1686, and in 1712 a sangui¬ 
nary duel was fought by the Duke of Hamilton and Lord 


1712. 


A Sanguinary Duel. 


45i 


Mohun,— a scene which Thackeray has painted in “ Esmond/' 
though with less regard for historical accuracy than other 
parts of that brilliant book show. The origin of the dispute 
was in a political intrigue; and while the Duke was a worthy 
gentleman, his opponent was a high-born ruffian, who had 
more than once before been implicated in murder. The 
Duke and his second, Colonel Hamilton, were first in the 
field. Soon after came Lord Mohun and his second, Major 
Macartney, whose appearance excited the ire of the Duke, 
the latter exclaiming: “ I am well assured, sir, that all this 
is by your contrivance, and therefore you shall have your 
share in the dance; my friend here, Colonel Hamilton, will 
entertain you.” 

“ I wish for no better pastime, and the Colonel may com¬ 
mand me,” replied Macartney. 

It was then the custom for the seconds to fight, as well as 
the principals, and the four men at once set to. Macartney 
was speedily disarmed by the Colonel, who flung both swords 
away, and went in the direction of the other combatants, who 
were thrusting at each other with uncommon ferocity. In a 
very short time the Duke was wounded in both legs; but he 
succeeded in piercing Mohun through the arm, in the grom, 
^and in other parts of the body. The grass around was red¬ 
dened with their blood ; yet, bleeding as they were, they still 
fought with a supernatural strength. Each at the same time 
then made a desperate lunge at the other. The Duke's wea¬ 
pon passed up to the very hilt through Mohun; but as the 
latter fell, he managed to stab his adversary, who also sank to 
the ground. Colonel Hamilton now lifted up his friend; 
and while he was doing so, Macartney seized one of the 
abandoned swords, and reaching over the Colonel’s shoulder, 
thrust it through the Duke’s heart. Lord Mohun himself 
died of his wounds on the spot; and with him his title be¬ 
came extinct, while the earls of Harrington succeeded to 
his estates. 




452 Young Folks History of London. 

Another noteworthy duel was that between John Wilkes, 
the agitator, and Samuel Martin, a member of Parliament. 
Martin had called Wilkes a cowardly and malignant scoun¬ 
drel, and the latter had at once called him out. They fired 
four times, when Wilkes fell, wounded in the abdomen. His 
antagonist, relenting, hastened up and insisted on helping 
him off the ground; but Wilkes as strenuously urged Martin 
to hurry away, so as to escape arrest. Wilkes soon recov¬ 
ered, the buttons of his coat having deadened the effect of 
the ball with which he was struck; and a few years later 
another duel was fought, not by him, but on his account, by 
one of his admirers and a Captain Douglass, who had aspersed 
his character in a coffee-house. The weapons used were 
swords, and Wilkes’s champion, who was a clergyman, suc¬ 
ceeded in running his adversary through the doublet without 
seriously injuring him. 

At this time the admiration with which Wilkes was regarded 
had no limits. One gentleman preserved as precious relics 
the coat and waistcoat buttons which had deadened the ball 
in the duel with Martin, and kept them in an ornamental case 
with the following absurd inscription : “These two simple yet 
invaluable buttons, under Providence, preserved the life of 
my beloved and honest friend, John Wilkes, in a duel fought^ 
with Mr. Martin on the 16th of November, 1763, where true 
courage and humanity distinguished him in a manner scarcely 
known to former ages. His invincible bravery, as well in the 
field as in the glorious assertion of the liberty of his fellow 
subjects, will deliver him down, as an unparalleled example 
of public virtue, to all future generations.” Wilkes at this 
time could be seen in the park almost daily, riding in a mag¬ 
nificent chariot, on which was painted his coat of arms and 
motto, Arcui meo non confido. 

In October, 1765, a young army officer named Redmond 
McGragh fought four opponents and disarmed them all, 


1772. 


Sheridan and Captain Matthews. 


453 


giving the silver hilts of their swords to a porter who was 
passing. He had previously declined a duel, saying that he 
reserved his courage for the service of his king and country; 
but being taunted with cowardice, he challenged all four of 
his detractors, with the result mentioned. In 1772 the witty 
Sheridan crossed swords with Captain Matthews; and as late 
as 1822 a duel was fought between the Duke of Buckingham 
and the Duke of Bedford. 

Thus we see that the park has had its seamy side, and has 
not been merely a place 

“ Where the fashionable fair 
Could form a slight acquaintance with fresh air.” 

Many great national movements have also been associated 
with it. Cromwell reviewed his troops here ; after the Restor¬ 
ation Charles the Second had his army in procession before 
him; and in 1699 King William the Third inspected the 
Life Guards, having at his side the Duke of Ormond, the 
Duke of Marlborough (then earl), the Prince of Denmark, 
husband of the future Queen Anne, the Duke of Gloucester, 
the Duke of Schomberg, Earl Rivers, and the Earl of Albe¬ 
marle. After Lexington and Bunker Hill, drills and reviews 
became very frequent in the park; and among the novelties 
was the custom the ladies adopted of wearing dresses to 
match the regimentals of their husbands. 

It is still used for political and military demonstrations; 
but, after all, the salient feature of the park is the crowd of 
equestrians and pedestrians which gather at different hours of 
the day during the London season. 

There is no finer sight in the world than that which may 
be seen in Rotten Row on a June afternoon. The stately man¬ 
sions of Mayfair, Belgravia, and Tyburnia empty their inmates 
into this concourse, and all who are famous or fashionable 
join in the throng. As the Ring was the favorite meeting 
point in times gone by, Rotten Row (a wide avenue extending 



454 Young Folks History of London . 

along the southern boundary of the park) is now the chosen 
resort of all those who wish to be classed above the common 
people. The singular name of this thoroughfare, let us say 
in parenthesis, is sometimes said to be a corruption of Route 
du Roi, or King’s road; but Timbs states that it is derived 
from the word rotter an, meaning to muster, and that its origin 
is traceable to the reviews which used to be held in the park. 
The wonder which Mr. Locker expresses,— 

“ And when I ride in Rotten Row 
I wonder why they called it so,” — 

need not, therefore, be shared by our readers. 

The name is libellous and unpleasing, and might well be 
changed for another one that would do justice to the avenue 
which bears it, — some name that would reflect the soft, trans¬ 
lucent foliage that borders it, or the flowers which are bedded 
in rich masses along its walks, or the distinction of its fre¬ 
quenters. It is the outdoor pivot of the fashionable world ; 
and nowhere else is the assemblage so aristocratic, so little 
diluted with the inferior streams of plebeian humanity. Pov¬ 
erty never ventures here : it feels its own unfitness too sharply 
to obtrude itself in this most undemocratic gathering ; for even 
the spectators are all well dressed, and have an appearance 
of refinement. Sitting in one of the chairs along the Row at 
the proper hour of the day, which is varied to suit the ca¬ 
prices of fashion, one sees a procession of the most notable 
people in London; now it is a cabinet minister; now a fa¬ 
mous diplomat; now his serene highness from Ispahan ; now a 
bronze prince of Hindoostan; now the Prince of Wales and 
his lovely princess ; now a governor of the Bank of England ; 
now the Lord Chief Justice or a pre-eminent barrister; and 
now a celebrated artist or a popular author. The toilets of 
the ladies are the richest, and the equipages are as faultless 
as the dresses of the persons who use them. For all one 





V T7 XTCTXTr'Tr> AT DAT A Tr 






































































































































































































































































































































































































































































BiMniHim— aaBHMWHWtG 


1883. Saturday Afternoon in Hyde Park. 457 

can see in Rotten Row, all the world is prosperous, dignified, 
well tailored, and well groomed. 

But Hyde Park is wide, and the range of its fashionable 
habitues is narrow; within a rod of the spectacle which the 
Row presents we can see a very different scene. Hyde is less 
ornamental in an artificial sense than Central Park in New 
\ ork and the Public Garden of Boston. Its attractiveness 
is largely in its countrified aspect, — its unfenced meadows, 
from which no one is forbidden, its wild-looking shrubbery, 
and the voluminous foliage of its old trees. The restrictions 
which confront one in many pleasure-grounds are absent 
here, and the purpose of public recreation is not defeated by 
arbitrary warnings against trespassing this way or that. It is 
like a great rural common, — more like Boston Common 
than any other place I know of, indeed; and, leaving Rotten 
Row behind, we wander over its grassy spaces with a sense of 
the boon it is to the thousands who learn from it the little 
they know of green fields and sheltering leaves. On a Satur¬ 
day afternoon in summer, when the sun is diffusing itself in 
an atmosphere which seems to be filled with a golden pow¬ 
der, it is a scene of communicative happiness. There are 
boys at play and children romping; there are quiet groups of 
girls and women sewing or reading; and all the voices sound 
soft and sweet, with an echoing contentment, though their 
customary tones may be harsh enough. It is a magnificent 
possession, this park of nearly four hundred acres ; it is in 
the heart of the most aristocratic section of the metropolis ; 
on its southern borders are the mansions of Belgravia; all 
along the northern borders are the squares, crescents, and 
gardens of Tyburnia, — another region of splendid houses; 
in the east is Mayfair, with its quaint and sombre architect¬ 
ure ; and on the west is delightful Kensington, with the 
famous palace and gardens of that name. 

Kensington Gardens are a continuation of the park, being 




45 8 Young Folks History of London . 

separated from it only by a sunken wall; but they are more 
densely wooded and more ornamental. They are a triumph 
of the landscape gardener’s art, and the foliage is so luxu¬ 
riant that the figures seem to be woven into it as in a tapes¬ 
try. The surface undulates, and the paths wind now along 
the shore of a lake, then under a Gothic archway of verdure, 
and then into an open space, bedded out with flowers of bril¬ 
liant hues. Kensington Palace was originally the residence 
of the Earl of Nottingham, and was purchased from him by 
William the Third. In it Queen Mary, the consort of that 
king, died ; and Queen Anne subsequently occupied it, giving 
those splendid fetes , which were attended by all the great 
world of London, attired in “brocaded robes, hoops, fly- 
caps, and fans.” She, too, died within its walls; and in it 
also died George the Second, who, with Queen Caroline, 
had spent most of his time in it. It became the home of 
the Duke and Duchess of Kent, to whom, on the 24th of 
May, 1819, a child was born, — Alexandrina Victoria, the 
lady who now wears the crown of England; and it was in 
the palace that news was brought to her of the death of 
William the Fourth, she receiving the messengers just as she 
had got out of bed, “ in a loose white nightgown and shawl, 
her nightcap thrown off and her hair falling upon her shoul¬ 
ders, her feet in slippers, tears in her eyes, but perfectly 
collected and dignified.” 

At no great distance from the Gardens is Holland House, 
which for two centuries and a half was the favorite resort of 
wits and beauties, painters and poets, of scholars, philoso¬ 
phers, and statesmen. In 1649 Fairfax, the Parliamentary 
general, made it his headquarters; in 1716 it became the 
possession of Joseph Addison, the essayist, who died here 
two years later; and in it Charles James Fox spent his 
early years. “ Holland House,” says Macaulay, “ can boast 
of a greater number of inmates distinguished in political 


ST. JAMES’S PARK. 
























































































461 


St. James s Park. 

and literary history than any other private dwelling in 
England.” 

Two other parks are contiguous to Hyde. Just across the 
way, on the southeastern side of Piccadilly, is Green Park, — 
a triangular space of about fifty acres, from which Constitution 
Hill leads down by Buckingham Palace into St. James’s Park, 
which has the palace of that name, and Marlborough House 
(the residence of the Prince of Wales) on one side, and 
Westminster and Whitehall on the other. On Constitution 
Hill three attempts have been made to assassinate the Queen ; 
and while riding over it Sir Robert Peel fell from his horse, 
receiving the injuries which caused his death. 

St. James’s Park is of greater interest than Green; and 
while it is one of the most beautiful, it is also one of the 
most democratic, of the London parks. There is nothing 
here to fill a man with envy by reminding him of the unequal 
distribution of the world’s honors and riches; whatever his 
poverty may be, he can find rags to match his own ; and if 
he be splenetic, he may, as Goldsmith says, meet com¬ 
panions with whose groans he may mix his own. The 
pinched faces of the “ lower orders,” as the laboring classes 
are called in England, may be seen as often as others; and 
the hands are not dainty which share the contents of wicker 
luncheon-baskets and paper parcels with the water-fowl on 
the lake, which are said to be the direct descendants of those 
introduced by Charles the Second. One part of the park is 
monopolized by these poor people. It is near the site of 
Carlton House; there sweets and confectionery are sold in 
little stalls or booths, and customers are given the unusual 
treat of milk freshly drawn, under their own eyes, from the 
cows which are tethered to the doors. 

Charles the Second did much to improve this park, which 
until his reign had been neglected. He laid it out with 
avenues of elms and limes; and these are still so numerous, 


462 Young Folks History of London. 

that the visitor may sit or walk without seeing anything of 
the surrounding city, except bits of the gray walls and towers 
of Westminster Abbey. The dissolute King was especially 
fond of it, and would sit for hours on the benches, amusing 
himself with his dogs and the tame ducks, while around him 
stood a crowd of the people, with whom he talked and joked. 
On its ornamental water skates were first used in England; 
and on one of the greenswards that game was introduced 
which is handed down to history in the name of one of the 
most famous of London streets, — Pall Mall. The King 
took great interest in this pastime, which was not unlike our 
modern croquet, and often joined in it, to the edification of 
the bystanders. 

The two palaces which stand on the borders of the park 
show how elastic their designation is. St. James’s Palace is 
small and dingy, more like an almshouse than a home of 
kings. Its front has been dyed an apoplectic purple by the 
London smoke; it has a barrack-like appearance, with em¬ 
battled towers and a sally-port; and the only relief to its 
gloom is the red-coated guard. But, as Hare says, the pic¬ 
turesque old brick gateway enshrines the memory of a greater 
succession of historical events than any other domestic build¬ 
ing in England, not excepting Windsor Castle. The site 
was occupied, even before the Conquest, by a hospital ded¬ 
icated to St. James “ for fourteen maidens that were lep¬ 
rous ; ” and Henry the Eighth converted the building into 
a palace for himself and Anne Boleyn, their marriage being 
commemorated by nearly effaced love-knots on the side doors 
of the gateway, and the initials “ H. A.” on the chimney- 
piece of the presence-chamber. Afterward the palace was 
settled by James the First on Prince Henry, who lived in it 
in great state, having a salaried household of two hundred' 
and ninety-seven servants. Charles the First then occupied 
it, and in it Charles the Second was born. Mary the Second 





4 


PLAYING PALL MALL, 























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































1825. 


Buckingham Palace. 


465 


and Queen Anne were also born here; and both of them 
were married under its roof. 

All of the Georges lived in the palace, as did William the 
Fourth and Queen Adelaide; but since the accession of 
Queen Victoria it has only been used for courts, levies, and 
drawing-rooms. Its rooms are dark and cramped, and many 
of them are di\ ided into suites for the pensioners of her 
Majesty; but they contain a valuable collection of old paint¬ 
ings and historic relics. 

Buckingham Palace has a much more grandiose appear¬ 
ance, and was built, between 1825 and 1837,011 the site of 
Buckingham House. It is the only palace in London used 
by the Queen as a residence. 

Regent s Park is the largest of all the London parks, 
comprising over four hundred acres; but it has less his¬ 
toric interest than St. James’s or Hyde. Within it are the 
Zoological Gardens and the Botanic Gardens; around it are 
many handsome villas. The visitors are mostly of the work¬ 
ing and mercantile classes, and the best time to see it is on a 
Saturday afternoon, when the boys are at cricket; or when 
the band is playing on a Sunday afternoon, and the crowd 
is attired in holiday finery. 

London is well supplied with parks. Besides those we 
have mentioned there is Battersea Park in the south, Fins¬ 
bury in the northwest, and Victoria in the east. Hampstead 
Heath and Epping Forest are perpetually reserved for public 
recreation. Nearly every village and suburb has its heath or 
common; and drive or walk which way we will, we find 
oases where trees and plants seem to thrive despite the 
baleful London fog. 


3° 


“ I can think of no happier destiny for the ardent lover of books, 
for a historian, a man of science, a statistician, a novelist, or a mere 
student, absorptive*but not fruitful, than to have cozy lodgings in the 
vicinity of Russell Square, a satisfactory English landlady, and a ticket 
— daily used —to the Reading-room. He may sit in one of the roomy 
fauteuils as luxuriously as the West End lord in his velvet-lined ma¬ 
hogany, and may look round with a sense of ownership (for their use 
and fruits are freely his) upon a far prouder possession of learning 
than the greatest West End lord can boast. He is in goodly com¬ 
pany for here burrow, almost invariably, the scholars, romancers, 
philosophers of England. He sits coequal in his privileges with the 
British aristocracy of brain. He is served as faithfully and as 
quickly as is the minister of state by his favorite private secretaries. 
There is the whole day long to revel, uninterrupted if he will, in his 
beloved studies, in a tranquil and studious sphere, out of hearing of 
the bustle of the streets, though here is busiest London roaring all 
about him.” 


Moncure D. Conway. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


THE BRITISH MUSEUM. 

The British Museum is not outwardly alluring to the world, 
and the working-man who, not having been in it before, gives 
up one of his rare holidays to making an acquaintance with 
it, is deserving of a great deal of praise. The London fogs 
have hung the front with decent academic black; the heavy 
Ionic columns look as if they should be broken, to typify 
bereavement; and the sculptured architrave, which represents 
the advance of man from the rude savage state, through patri¬ 
archal simplicity and paganism, to civilization, is so begrimed 
that it seems to carry its own allegory farther, and to betoken 
the relapse of the world into final darkness. 

The portico is imposing in its dimensions, and the view of 
it is not hindered, for there is a wide, solemn courtyard, with 
high railings, before it. Since the days of Trajan no such 
stones have been used in building as those in this front. There 
are eight hundred of them, and each weighs from five to nine 
tons. But the lines of the Ionic architecture are cold and 
severe, and the building, blackened as it is, seems to be in 
mourning. 

A little distance to the south of the Museum is the turmoil 
of Oxford Street ; behind it, reaching up to Euston Road, is 
“ comfortable Bloomsbury,” with its sooty old brick, unchang¬ 
ing houses, which give to the American, who has recently 
come away from the white marble and painted iron and wood 
of his own country, an idea that London is a vast coal-cellar. 


468 Young Folks History of London. 

Nothing about the Museum is cheery or beautiful; it is in 
sombre contrast to the new brick and terra-cotta palaces 
which contain the collections at South Kensington; and if it 
is pointed out to the simple-minded artisan or laborer as 
one of the chief fountains of knowledge, then it must seem 
to him that knowledge is too owlish and depressing to be 
desirable. 

Even when the portals are passed the effect is not enliven¬ 
ing. The first view is of sober-hued walls, wide staircases, 
reverberant alcoves, groups of plaster casts, and fragmentary 
antiquities. But if the visitor has courage enough to penetrate 
farther, and has intelligence enough to understand what he 
sees, he will soon find the Museum growing in interest; and 
in it he can take object-lessons on such a scale as no other 
institution in the world can afford. 

The things which history describes are palpable and visible 
here. The implements and utensils, the houses and the 
handiwork, of classic times and classic lands are set up in 
the midst of London ; ancient Greece and Rome, Assyria 
and Egypt, old Roman London and mediaeval England have 
been revived in Bloomsbury ! The Museum is not restricted 
to antiquities, however. It contains the great national library, 
paintings, drawings, and statuary, a vast zoological collection, 
a mineral collection, and a botanical collection; no part of 
it is small or inferior; and, as already stated, it is in some 
respects the greatest of all museums. 

The founder was Sir Hans Sloane, a distinguished and 
philanthropic London physician, who, wishing to prevent 
the dispersal of his own collections after death, offered them 
to the Government for ,£20,000,— a sum less than half 
their value. The offer was gladly accepted ; and at the same 
time the Government decided to purchase some other collec¬ 
tions, and to put them all together in a national museum, for 
the benefit of which a lottery was held. The lottery netted 


1759- A Satirical Catalogue . 469 

the sum of ^9 5,000, and the required £ 20,000 was paid to 
the legatees of Sir Hans Sloane. 

The Museum promised to be what it has become, — a 
source of education and entertainment to the nation; but 
the wits of the time scoffed at the project, and one of them, 
intending to belittle the Sloane bequest, contemptuously 
catalogued the collection, which was said to contain 

“ a sacrecl pin 
That touch’d the ruff that touched 
Queen Bess’s chin ; ” 

while another satirist, enumerating the objects in an imagin¬ 
ary museum, offered to present, — • 

“ Three drops of the same shower 
Which Jove in Danae’s lap did pour; 

From Carthage brought, the sword I ’ll send 
Which brought Queen Dido to her end; 

The stone whereby Goliath died, 

Which cures the headache when applied; 

A whetstone, worn exceeding small, 

Time used to whet his scythe withal; 

St. Dunstan’s tongs, which story shows 
Did pinch the Devil by the nose; 

The very shaft, as all may see, 

Which Cupid shot at Antony; 

And what above the rest I prize, 

A glance from Cleopatra’s eyes. 

• • • • • 

In a thumb-vial you shall see, 

Close-corked, some drops of honesty, 

Which, after searching kingdoms round, 

At last were in a cottage found. 

• • • • • 

I ha’ n’t collected any care ; 

Of that there’s plenty everywhere; 

But after wondrous labor spent, 

I’ve got one grain of real content; 

It is my wish, it is my glory, 

To furnish your nicknackatory.” 


470 


Young Folks History of London. 


The “ nicknackatory ” was first established in Montague 
House, the property of Lord Halifax ; and it was opened 
to the public on Jan. 15, 1759, since which time it has 
been augmented and enriched again and again. 

George the Second presented a library which had been 
collected by previous kings from the time of Henry the 
Seventh. George the Fourth added a library which his 
father had formed, and the trustees purchased the historic 
manuscripts known as the Harleian Collection, formed by 
the Earl of Oxford, to which were added the manuscripts 
collected by Sir John Cotton soon after the dissolution of 
monasteries in England.* 

Montague House soon became too small for the accumu¬ 
lated treasures, and the present building, which is a square 
formed by four wings, with a reading-room in the quadrangle, 
was completed in 1857, the old one having been taken down, 
section by section, as the new one advanced. Although it 
covers seven acres of ground, every inch of it is occupied, 
and there is an urgent necessity for more room. 

In the Anglo-Roman Gallery, one of the twelve depart¬ 
ments into which the Museum is divided, may be seen 
the Roman works which have been dug up from beneath 
modern London, — tombs like those which stand in the 
Appian Way and in Pompeii; mosaic pavements which it is 
said Roman art alone could devise ; lamps, weapons, amu¬ 
lets, urns, coins, and beads, whose appearance and inscrip¬ 
tions indicate with certainty the presence of a settled Roman 
civilization on the banks of the Thames. In another gallery 
we pass from old London to Greece and Rome, whose life 
is illustrated by military and domestic utensils ; bejewelled, 
chased, and enamelled ornaments; bass-reliefs; coins and 
statuary. Thence we may enter Asia Minor and the Lycian 
cities, some of whose most valuable ruins were removed to 
London by Sir Charles Fellowes between 1842 and 1846. 



READING ROOM, BRITISH MUSEUM 





















































































































































































1856. The Mausoleum of Halicarnassus . 473 

A splendid possession of the Museum is the mausoleum of 
Halicarnassus, one of the “ Seven Wonders of the World,” 
which in 1856 was carried to England from the coast of Asia 
Minor, where it had been buried since the twelfth century. It 
was built by Artemisia, Princess of Caria, as a memorial of her 
husband, Mausolus, whose death she so mourned that after 
mixing his ashes with her drink daily for two years, she died 
of a broken heart. The monument surpassed all others of 
the ancient world; and from its beauty the name of mauso¬ 
leum came to be applied to all similar monuments. 

The departments of Natural History, Mineralogy, and Bot¬ 
any we will not mention, as our space will not allow it, and as 
the antiquities are more interesting. Here are the remains of 
Nineveh and the famous Elgin Marbles, which Lord Elgin, 
ambassador to the Sublime Porte, brought from Athens. 
He took the consent which he obtained from that Govern¬ 
ment in no narrow sense, and carried away with him the 
pediment of the Parthenon, and, indeed, a very considerable 
portion of that beautiful building. 

The Egyptian Gallery contains the Sphinx, Isis, and Osiris 
many times repeated, sarcophagi and monuments, tombs of 
the Ptolemies and Rameseses, sculptured tablets and statues, 
funeral vases and pillars, — all crowded with hieroglyphics 
which still puzzle the archaeologist. There are a large num¬ 
ber of glass-cases in this department, containing mummies of 
various ages, some dried to black crusts, and others quite 
life-like \ while along the walls are relics exhibiting the cus¬ 
toms and usages of ancient Egypt, ornaments, domestic 
utensils, official and priestly costumes, works of art, toilet 
articles, playthings, writing-materials, and trade implements. 

Between the British and Mediaeval Room and the Ethno¬ 
logical Department is a space filled with gold ornaments 
1 and gems, — cameos, intaglios, and other precious 01 naments , 
and here is the famous Portland vase, which is considered to 





474 


Young Folks History of London. 


be one of the greatest treasures of the Museum. It was found 
in a marble sarcophagus near Rome about the middle of the 
sixteenth century, and was afterward deposited in the Bar- 
berini Palace, where it remained until 1770, when it was pur¬ 
chased by Sir William Hamilton, who sold it to the Duchess 
of Portland for nine thousand dollars. The ground of the 
vase is of dark-blue glass, and the design is cut in a layer of 
opaque white glass, which stands out in bold relief. Until 
1845 this triumph of the glass-maker’s art was in perfect 
condition; but in that year a drunken mechanic deliberately 
threw a stone at it and smashed it into a thousand pieces. 
This tipsy vandal ought to have been publicly whipped; but, 
strange to say, he was let off on payment of a fine. The 
fragments of the vase were afterward cemented together by 
a gentleman who had for a long time been engaged at the 
Museum ; and the work was done so skilfully, that the cracks 
can scarcely be detected. 

The Etruscan rooms are crowded with beautiful vases, 
which are nearly all more than two thousand years old; and 
whichever way we turn, we find the vestiges of civilizations 
which have bequeathed to us the fruits of their ungrudging 
labors. In the Museum, it has been truthfully said, the 
artist is reminded that the same way to perfection lies open to 
him as to the Greek of old ; and the mere observer learns, in 
the study of beauty which came by honest labor, to discourage 
and avoid that which is false and fleeting in art or workman¬ 
ship of any kind. 

The feature which excels all others at the British Museum 
is the Reading-room. In the first place, the collection of 
books is probably the largest in the world, and it includes 
nearly 1,500,000 volumes, many of which are old and his¬ 
toric manuscripts, without duplicates. In the second place, 
the building which contains the books is of enormous size, 
and so well arranged and equipped that all parts of it are 


1884. 


The R eading-Room . 


475 


easily accessible. In the third place, the management is so 
liberal and intelligent, that the whole of the vast and priceless 
collection is available to the knowledge-seeking public with¬ 
out trouble or cost. In no other library in the world are the 
contents so rare; and yet the readers, instead of being hin¬ 
dered, discouraged, questioned, and cross-examined until 
they feel as if they were the defendants in some judicial 
proceeding, as in some libraries, are helped in. every way by 
patient and courteous officials, who carry catalogues in their 
heads and clews to all books at their tongues’ ends. 

Any adult may become a reader on the recommendation 
of a responsible householder in London, provided he intends 
to use the books for study, and not for amusement simply ; 
and when a ticket has once been issued to him, all the privil¬ 
eges of the room are his perpetually, unless he gives up his 
abode in London or misconducts himself. The library is 
not intended for the recreation of mere novel-readers or the 
turners-over of picture-books, as, if they were admitted, they 
would crowd out the more earnest readers; but, however 
humble the latter may be, all the resources of the library are 
open to them, provided they have an object. Not only are 
the books placed at their disposal, but also pens, ink, paper, 
and blotters. The furniture is as comfortable as that in the 
writing-rooms of good clubs; an upholstered armchair, a 
leather-covered desk, and a book-rest are provided for each 
reader. The room is always warm in winter and cool in 
summer, the ventilation being of the most ingenious and 
effective kind, and at all times the light is ample. The will¬ 
ingness of the attendants to oblige, and their ability to do so, 
must command the respect and gratitude of any one who 
constantly uses this splendid institution. 

Once the writer was seeking information regarding the 
Bank of England, and had consulted the catalogue with¬ 
out finding what he wanted. In his difficulty he turned 


476 


Young Folks History of London. 


to an official at the central desk, who at once referred him 
to articles on the subject covering many years of the files of 
newspapers and magazines,—fragmentary essays which the 
catalogue did not mention, but which this gentleman recalled 
from his phenomenal memory. It seemed to me that the 
Bank was surely his pet theme; and when I went to him 
again, it was with the fear that I had exhausted his useful¬ 
ness ; but though the subject about which I now inquired was 
utterly unconnected with the Bank, he showed the same glib¬ 
ness as before in referring me to fugitive treatises, which he 
remembered having seen years previously. As often as I 
went to him in search of information, he was ready, and his 
urbanity made conversation with him a pleasure. 

No matter what the subject may be which an author has in 
hand, it may be safely said that in the Reading-room of the 
British Museum he can prepare himself for his work more 
fully than anywhere else ; and an instance of the comprehen¬ 
siveness of the books came to my knowledge not long ago. 
The editor-in-chief of a Chicago newspaper was visiting the 
library, and some one suggested that he should turn to the 
catalogue and see if he could not find his own name there. 
“ But I have written nothing except a few pamphlets on free- 
trade,” he said. The catalogue was examined, however, and 
under the proper heading was a reference to these little-cir¬ 
culated books, which had been issued for private circulation, 
years before, in the distant Western city. 

On entering the Reading-room the visitor finds himself in an 
immense circular apartment, crowned by a splendid dome, 
one hundred and forty feet in diameter and one hundred and 
six feet high, — the largest dome in the world, except that of 
the Pantheon at Rome. From the floor to the base of the 
dome the walls are hidden by bookshelves, which extend 
entirely around the building; and these, added to others in 
the adjoining apartments, measure about thirty miles in 


1884. 


Contents of the Library. 


477 


length. Thirty miles of bookshelves, containing nearly one 
million five hundred thousand volumes, exclusive of hun¬ 
dreds of thousands of tracts, pamphlets, manuscripts, and 
newspaper-files ! To this already enormous collection every 
publisher in the United Kingdom is required by law to 
add a copy of every book he issues; and the annual in¬ 
crease has often been more than a hundred and fifty 
thousand volumes. The shelves are arranged in three 
tiers, the two upper ones being reached by circular bal¬ 
conies, while the lower one is accessible from the floor. 
The latter contains twenty thousand volumes of books of 
reference, magazines, reviews, and standard works; and all of 
these can be taken down by the readers and used as they 
need them, no ticket for them being required. One feels a 
sense of awe as one looks at these winding shelves, and real¬ 
izes what the Library is, -— a storehouse of thought; a granary 
filled with the most varied of human experiences; the offer¬ 
ings of scholarship revealed in many tongues; the harvest of 
intellectual endeavor. And the awe grows when one looks 
from the shelves to the desks where the toil is still being 
continued, and the students are poring in silence over the 
volumes before them, striving to add still further to the sum 
of knowledge. 

The arrangement of the floor may be likened to a wheel. 
The hub is represented by a circular enclosure, reserved for 
the officers of the Library, where the books are delivered and 
received. The spokes are the desks which radiate from the 
centre, and of these there are about thirty-five, which altoge¬ 
ther will accommodate about three hundred persons, allow¬ 
ing four feet in the width of the desk-space to each reader. 
The readers sit on both sides of the desk, but a longitu¬ 
dinal screen hides those on one side from the others, and 
thus privacy is secured. Under the desks there are foot¬ 
rests, which in cold weather are heated by warm water; and 



478 Young Folks' History of London. 

the screen of the desks, which is hollow, is provided with air- 
chambers, by which the atmosphere is purified. The cata¬ 
logue is placed in circular shelves surrounding the officials’ 
desk at the hub of the wheel, and it fills over three hundred 
large folio volumes. When the reader first receives the ticket 
that entitles him to use the room, an assistant is assigned to 
teach him how to consult the catalogue and to apply for 
books; but the classification of the books is so admirable, 
that the novice soon finds that he has the immense collection 
at his fingers’ ends, and needs no further help. What trea¬ 
sures that colossal catalogue opens ! The historian may here 
find the fountain-head of knowledge, and read the testimony 
of authors who lived in the times he wishes to describe, — 
times so remote, perhaps, that Caxton had not then set up 
his printing-press in Westminster Abbey, and the only record 
of them is in laboriously written missals. 

Coming to the time of printed books, he finds the original 
editions of Caxton and Wynkyn de Worde, and copies of 
books that have been owned by Lord Bacon, Michael An¬ 
gelo, Charles the First, Katharine Parr, Ben Jonson, Martin 
Luther, John Milton, Isaac Newton, Dean Swift, and Sir 
Walter Scott. The titles to works referring to Shakespeare 
and to the several editions of his plays fill two of the large 
folio volumes of the catalogue ; and of other famous books, 
one hundred and four different editions of the “ Pilgrim’s 

O 

Progress ” may be examined, one hundred and twenty-four 
editions of “ Paradise Lost,” and one hundred and two edi¬ 
tions of “ Robinson Crusoe.” 

From the Royal libraries given by George the Second and 
George the Fourth we can learn what the tastes of the sov¬ 
ereigns were by the books they possessed. James the First 
was fond of political and philosophical works, — a taste 
shared by his son Charles. Charles the Second read for 
amusement, and George the Third was fond of history. 


1884. 


The Collection of Bibles. 


479 


The Royal Library, which was formed by the sovereigns 
from the time of Henry the Seventh to George the Second, 
is rich in memorials of the Tudors and Stuarts. It contains a 
New Testament which belonged to Anne Boleyn; the Greek 
Grammar of Edward the Sixth ; Queen Mary’s copy of Ban- 
dello’s novels, which are said to have supplied Shakespeare 
with the plots of many of his plays; old almanacs on which 
Charles the First scribbled his name when Prince of Wales; 
and a fine copy of the second edition of the “ Pilgrim’s Pro¬ 
gress,” which belonged to Charles the Second. 

The collection of Bibles includes the Mazarine Bible, so 
called because the copy which first attracted notice in mod¬ 
ern times was discovered in the library of the Cardinal of 
that name; the Elector of Saxony’s copy of Martin Luther’s 
translation of the Bible ; Myles Coverdale’s Bible, dated 1530, 
the first printed in England; and Martin Luther’s own copy 
of the German Bible. 

Two documents that were important in their results to 
England are also among the treasures of the Library. One of 
them is the Papal Bull in which Innocent the Third accepts 
the Kingdom of England from King John, and the other is 
the famous Magna Charta. The latter is inclosed within a 
glass frame, and has a fragment of the seal hanging from it.- 
Having once escaped destruction by fire in 1731, it was care¬ 
fully extended upon coarse canvas; but the ink has become 
very pale, and the writing is nearly illegible. 

Another historical document in the collection is the Bull 
of Leo the Tenth, conferring the title of “ Defender of the 
Faith ” on Henry the Eighth ; and there is also a letter from 
Henry the Fifth to the Bishop of Durham, dated Feb. 10, 
1418. 

The great ornament of the manuscript collection is an an¬ 
cient Greek copy of the Scriptures, which is supposed to have 
been made by a lady of Alexandria in the fourth or sixth cen- 


480 Young Folks History of London. 

turies, and which was presented to Charles the First by the 
Patriarch of Constantinople. It is one of the two most an¬ 
cient copies of the Scriptures in existence. 

In the same department are many volumes enriched by 
the finest illuminators of different countries, and the “ Basili- 
con Doron ” of James the First, — a treatise in his own hand¬ 
writing on the art of government, addressed to his son, Prince 
Henry, “ showing how much easier it is to speculate plausibly 
than to rule well.” 

Here, also, may be found the original manuscripts of 
Sterne’s “ Sentimental Journey,” Johnson’s tragedy of 
“ Irene,” Scott’s “ Kenilworth,” Pope’s “ Iliad,” Macaulay’s 
“ History,” and one of Ariosto’s longer poems. Among 
the documents is the Diary of John Locke, a despatch 
written by Wellington on the field of Waterloo, a plan of 
the battle of the Nile drawn by Lord Nelson, the Will of 
Mary Queen of Scots, the Journal of the Duke of Mon¬ 
mouth, and letters of Raleigh, Wolsey, Knox, Leicester, 
Montrose, Bacon, Newton, Johnson, Voltaire, Marlborough, 
Galileo, Racine, Moliere, Dryden, Addison, Swift, Goethe, 
and Schiller. There are autographs of every English sov¬ 
ereign from Richard the First to Victoria; and we ought 
not to fail to mention an old mortgage-deed signed by 
William Shakespeare, nor an agreement signed by John 
Milton, in which he disposes of “ Paradise Lost ” to 
Samuel Simmons, the terms of the sale being five pounds 
down, five pounds more after the sale of thirteen hun¬ 
dred copies, and five pounds additional on each thirteen 
hundred copies sold. 

Says Mr. Edward Walford : “ As to whether this Library 
[the British Museum] or that of the Louvre in Paris has the 
most books, is a disputed point; probably we are below the 
Louv re in manuscripts, and about equal to it in the number 
of printed books. ... At present all is collected that issues 


1884. 


Famous Readers . 


481 


from the English press, down to the most insignificant work 
on crochet, a child’s missionary magazine, the directory of 
a country town, a circulating-library novel; and everything 
that is collected finds its place on the shelves and in the 
catalogue, in the conviction that it may often be a point of 
importance to preserve one copy of even a worthless work in 
a repository where it may be instantly referred to in case 
of need.” The privilege of claiming from the publishers 
a gratuitous copy of every work printed in the English 
dominions, which had been claimed by the Crown since the 
time of Charles the Second, accompanied the gift of the Royal 
Library by George the Second ; and it is interesting to add that 
a similar privilege in connection with American books belongs 
to the Congressional Library at Washington. 

The reading-room in old Montague House, which pre¬ 
ceded the present one, was frequented by half-a-dozen 
readers. One of the first to avail himself of it was the 
poet Gray, who wrote in a letter : “ I often pass four hours 
in the day in the stillness and solitude of the reading-room.” 
Isaac Disraeli was another of the few persons- who visited it; 
but it was scarcely used at all by the general public. When 
better accommodations were provided, the attendance in- 
- creased to hundreds; and, spacious as the present room is, it 
is hardly large enough to accommodate all who wish to use 
it. Many distinguished men have utilized this splendid Lib¬ 
rary,—among others Sir James Mackintosh, Sir Walter Scott, 
Charles Lamb, Washington Irving, William Godwin, Dean 
Milman, Leigh Hunt, Hallam, Macaulay, Campbell, Bulwer 
Lytton, Charles Dickens, Thackeray, Douglas Jerrold, Louis 
Philippe, Louis Napoleon, Guizot, Thiers, George Eliot, 
Carlyle, Charles Reade, Robert Browning, Swinburne, 
Froude, and Wilkie Collins. 

To-day, looking around the room, one would be sure to 
discover some famous author, traveller, or scientist. The 

31 


482 Young Folks History of London. 

occupations of the readers cover nearly every branch of learn¬ 
ing. Here, as rusty in dress and as sallow in complexion as 
the old denizens of Grub Street, is a painstaking, detail-seek¬ 
ing encyclopedist, his head shut in by a three-sided barricade 
of books. There a pedagogue is deeply engrossed in the 
comparison of a score or more books of the Latin Principia; 
there, again, a parson is fortifying himself for next Sunday’s 
sermon ; and here a shabby man in a mechanic’s dress is con¬ 
sulting the files of an engineering magazine, to see that his own 
invention does not infringe the patents of others. This man 
with the rapid pencil is taking notes for a pamphlet, which 
will be struck off the press in a few hours to meet the sudden 
demand for information on some vexed political question on 
which the Government has staked its existence; and that 
young fellow, who is better dressed than most of the rest, 
and carries himself with a saucy air, is a literary “ free lance ” 
from Fleet Street, who will not take more than half an hour 
in equipping himself for the destruction of a profound work 
by a great scientist on a subject of which until now the critic 
has been wholly in the dark. 

These are types which any one can discern any day in the 
Reading-room. The preacher, the journalist, the inventor, 
the bookmaker, the schoolmaster, and the critic, — these are - 
bees in this hive who produce some contribution to popular 
information in return for what they absorb. 

But there is another class, the bibliomaniacs and book¬ 
worms, who plod along aimlessly, and to whom reading is 
not the means to an end, but a form of gluttony. They 
come in all weathers, not minding the slush and fogs of 
winter, nor the allurements of summer. As soon as the 
doors are opened they take their accustomed places, and, 
surrounded by piles of books, sit there the whole day 
through, uttering no word, and not pausing even for 
luncheon, a bit of bread crammed into the mouth, while 


1884. 


Many Kinds of Students. 


483 


the eyes are still poring over their books, sufficing for that 
meal. There are women among them, — poor creatures with 
red eyelids and dowdy dresses, who are no less close in their 
application than the men. If their labor were productive, it 
would be less pathetic; but nothing comes out of it; they 
have a thirst, but the more they drink the more parched and 
voiceless they become. In contrast with them are some assid¬ 
uous workers for publishers, the scribes of Paternoster Row, 
who read enormously and write enormously. Most of them 
are scholars and gentlemen of irreproachable lives and great 
ability; but it so happens that their talents are not of the 
kind which earn large wages ; and, toiling as they do, poverty 
still stares them in the face, until the end comes, and the 
word passes in a whisper from desk to desk, that they have 
learned a greater secret than the most precious volume the 
Reading-room contains, — the secret of that bourne whence 
no traveller returns. 









































INDEX 


Abbey, Westminster, character of, 403. 
See Westminster Abbey. 

Addington, Judge, pacifies the people, 
14 7 

Alfred, King, takes and rebuilds Lon¬ 
don, 13. 

“Almanac, Old Moore’s,” issued by 
Stationers’ Company, 306. 

Alms distributed by the guilds, 290. 

Alsatia, old nickname for Whitefriars, 
376 . 

America, traces of history of, seen in 
Westminster Abbey, 422. 

Andre, Major, monument to, in West¬ 
minster Abbey, 422 

Andrewes, Bishop of Winchester, edu¬ 
cation of, 289. 

Anne, Queen, size of London during 
reign of, 131. 

Antwerp lends money to English at 
high rates, 347. 

Apothecaries’ Company, hall of, 304. 

Apparition seen at Tower by the 
Swifts, 229. 

Apprenticeship, seven years’, necessary 
to enter a trade-guild, 277. 

Archbishops and bishops members of 
House of Lords, 436. 

Armorers, Company of, fine plate kept 
in hall of, 305. 

Armories, ancient and curious, in the 
Tower, 240 ; always attached to the 
halls of the different guilds, 293. 

Askew, Anne, put to the rack, 230. 

Assistants, Court of, great privileges 
of, 283. 

Association, Protestant, formation of, 

I 12. 

Audley, Lord, with Cornish rebels, 
routed at Blackheath, 51. 

Authors, quotations from, concerning 
Westminster Abbey, 404. 

Bailey makes great display as a 
dandy, 449. 

Bally, Captain, sets up hackney-coaches, 
170. 


Ball, John, leader in Wat Tyler’s in¬ 
surrection, 40. 

Bank of England, peculiarly massive 
building of, 3 iS ; notes of, how 
printed, 321 ; counting and sorting 
of coin in, 322 ; simplicity of offices 
in, 325 ; first designed by Paterson, 
327; defeats a run by paying six¬ 
pences, 329 ; tries to break Childs’ 
Bank, 330. 

Banking, notice of its rise and pro¬ 
gress, 326. 

Banquets, provision and management 
of, by the different compan.es, 38 ; 
Lord Mayors’, splendor and ex¬ 
pense of, 253; Coronation, notice 
of. 431. 

Barebones, Praise-God, attacked by 
mob, 107. 

“ Barnaby Rudge, ” Dickens’s descrip¬ 
tion of the Gordon riots in, 158. 

Baxter. Richard, anecdote of his 
preaching 384. 

Beclcet, Thomas it, begins his career, 
20; quarrels with Henry II., 21; 
story of death of, 22 ; has chapel on 
Old London Bridge, 193. 

Beckford, William, writes “ Vathek ” 
at one sitting, 262. 

Beefeaters, name for guides about the 
Tower, 235. 

Bells on Royal Exchange, pathetic 
story of, 353. 

Besant, Walter, his shrewd analysis of 
the Cat story, 274. 

Bibles, very old, preserved in British 
Museum, 479. 

Bill of fare at an early banquet, 38. 

Billingsgate, great fish-market at, 200. 

Blackheath, Wat Tyler’s insurrection 
at, 39 ; Cade’s rebels muster at, 47 ; 
Cornish rebels defeated at, 51. 

Blood, Colonel, his attempt to steal the 
crown jewels, 239 ; pardoned for his 
crime, 240. 

“ Boar’s Head,” famous tavern in 
Eastcheap, 317. 

Boat-races on the Thames, 211. 






486 


Index. 


Boleyn, Anne, anecdotes of her cor¬ 
onation, 52. 

Boleyn, Sir Geoffrey, Lord Mayor of 
London, 247. 

Books, lack of, in time of Knights- 
Templars, 762 ; copy of all published 
in Great Britain m British Museum, 
481. 

Bookworms, always found in British 
Museum, 482. 

Bocnen, Guilliam, made coachman to 
Qu-en Elizabeth, 170. 

Boys used on steamboats instead of 
bells, 200. 

Briant, Alexander, severe torture of, 

2 } 0 . 

Bridewell, horrors of New Prison, 386. 

Bridge, New London, building and 
open.ng of, 197. 

Br.dge, Old London, built very early, 
34; destroyed by Norsemen, 190; 
historic scenes upon, 194. 

Bristol, at one time second town in 
England, 131. 

Brummel, Beau, prince of English 
fops, 449. 

Brunswick, House of, Doggett com¬ 
memorates accession of, 311. 

Brute, or Brutus, reputed founder of 
London, 11 ; legend relating to, 259. 

Bull, Dr. John, organist to James I., 
298. 

Buns, Chelsea, peculiar excellence of, 
208. 

Button opens new coffee-house, 135. 


Cade. J ack, rebels, and gathers men 
at Blackheath, 47. 

Campion, priest, tortured almost to 
death, 230. 

Canning, George, notable speech of, at 
the banquet at Fishmongers’ Hall, 
296. 

Canute, King, makes London famous, 

1 3 ; 

Carriages, early scarcity of, 169; in¬ 
troduction of, described by Stow, 
170. 

Cat, supplies Wyatt with food in pris¬ 
on, 218; story of Whittington and 
his^ 266; same story of, examined 
by Besant and others, 272; always 
found in Whittington’s portraits, 
^ 273 - 

Catalogue, great, of library in British 
Museum, 478. 

Catholics, inscription against on the 


Monument, 129; great hatred of, 
in London, 141. 

Cave, printer, starts “ Gentleman’s 
Magazine,” 366. 

Cells, terrible style of, in the Tower, 
229. 

Cesspools abolished, and new plan of 
sewerage formed, 162. 

Chair, curious, seen at Fishmongers’ 
Hall, 296. 

Chairs, Coronation, at Westminster, 
described, 4-0. 

Chancellor, Lord, especial dignity of, 
439; pres des .n House ot Lords, 
441 - 

Chapel of Henry VII., great beauty of, 
416. 

Chapels and monuments in West- 
nnnst-r Abbey, 413. 

Charing Cioss, early notice of, 82. 

Charles I., fatal quarrel of, with the 
Parliament, 90; robs the M.nt, 
326; attempts to restore St. Paul's, 
397 ; tried at Westm nster flail, 
429; opens Hyde Park to the pub¬ 
lic, 445. 

Charles 11 ., great magnitude of Lon¬ 
don in time of, 94; rejoicings at 
accession of, 107; proclaimed king 
at Temple Bar, 356; spends much 
time in Hyde Park, 446; improves 
St. James’s Park, 461. 

Charter granted to London by William 


I., 15. 

Charters, early, granted to citizens cf 
London, 243. 

Cheapside. famous for pageantries, 51 ; 
sketch of its appearance, 177. 

Chelsea, pensioners at, 207. 

Child. Francis, very early English 
banker. .’27 ; early business history 
of, 333 ; daughter of, runs away with 
Lord Westmoreland, 334. 

Childs’ Bank, saved from Bank of 
England, 330; passes to Earl of 
Jersey, 335 ; used to rent room over 
Temple Bar, 360. 

Citizens compelled to pay for every 
liberty, 244. 

Clerkcnwell, prison of, broken up and 
burned, 150, 

Clothworkers, or Shearmen, Company 
of, 314. 

Club, Kit-Kat, celebrated assembly of 
great men, 132. 

Coaches, hackney, 170. 

Coal, tax laid upon, to pay for the 
rebuilding of St. Paul’s, 398. 







Index. 


487 


Cockade, blue, worn by followers of 
Gordon, 142. 

Coffee-house, Will’s, frequented by 
wits and authors, 132; Button’s, 
patronized by Addison, 135. 

Ccffee-houses, early importance of, iot. 

Colechurch, Peter, designs Old Lon¬ 
don Bridge, 190. 

Commons, House of, not open to pub¬ 
lic, 432; its impressive aspect to a 
stranger, 433 ; proceedings in, at 
opening of Parliament, 434 ; special 
courtesies of, 435. 

Companies (Guilds), the twelve great, 
in London, 279 ; composition of, 
280 ; wealth of, 284 ; extensive char¬ 
ities of, 287- 

Copyright, requires entry at Station¬ 
ers’ Hall, 305. 

Coronation, ceremony always at West¬ 
minster, 410, chairs used at cere¬ 
mony of, 420. 

Cox and Fielding mobbed by the Gor¬ 
don rioters, 150. 

Cromwell, head of, spiked on West¬ 
minster Hall, 430. 

Crowd, motley, formerly seen about 
Royal Exchange, 338. 

Curiosities, odd list cf, comment upon, 
103 ; innumerable, in British Muse¬ 
um, 473. 

Dandies, extravagant habits of, de¬ 
scribed, 447. 

Danes plunder London in early times, 
L 3 - 

Darien, Paterson tries to found col¬ 
ony in, 328. 

Davenant, his remarks on the bad 
streets of London, 136. 

Davy, Sir Humphry, condemns gas¬ 
lighting, 166. 

De Burgh builds Whitehall, 182. 

Defoe, Daniel, his account of the Great 
Plague, no, 115. 

Desks and shelves, arrangement of, at 
British Museum, 477. 

Dickens, Charles, his vivid description 
of the Gordon riots, 158. 

Dogget, Thomas, bequest of, 311. 

Dome, of St. Paul’s, statement of di¬ 
mensions of, 403 ; at British Muse¬ 
um, prodigious size of, 476. 

Downing Street, 183. 

Drapers’ Company, banquets of, 312. 

Dream, prophetic, told to William 
Staines, 263. 


Dress, in time of Elizabeth, described, 

62. 

Dryden keeps up reputation of Will’s 
house, 135. 

Duels often fought in Hyde Park, 450. 
Durham, Bishop of, early financier, 16. 


Eagle, Solomon, fanatic, roams 
about London, 118. 

Eastcheap, historic memories of, 3T7. 

Edward 1 . brings Stone of Scone to 
London, 420 

Edward III. first real helper of Lon¬ 
don, 35. 

Edward IV., early prowess, ard recep¬ 
tion of, 48. 

Elizabeth, Queen, delivers England 
from persecution, 55 ; improvements 
of her time, 58 ; torture much used 
in her time, 231 ; visits and names 
the Royal Exchange, 351 ; hunts in 
Hyde Park, 444. 

Embankment, Victoria, description of, 
178; Albert, noticed, 181. 

Epping Forest, 465. 

Erkenwald, Saint, traditions about, 

39 2 * 

Evelyn, John, interesting story of 
Great Fire, 126. 

Exchange, Royal, burned in Great 
Fire, 123, 332; splendor of, in Ad¬ 
dison’s time, 131 ; founded by sen 
of Sir Richard Gresham, 261 ; at 
first only an open square. 341 ; first 
built by Sir Thomas Gresham. 342 ; 
named “ Royal ” by Elizabeth, 351; 
second building of, burned, 333. 

Eyre, Sir Simon, Lord Mayor, his 
curious joke, 260. 

Fairfax, Lady, intrepidity of, 430. 

Farrar, Archdeacon, reflections on 
Westminster Abbey, 404. 

Fawkes, Guy, connected with Gun¬ 
powder Plot, 82 ; anniversary of his 
disgrace, 86; his answer to James 
I., 182. 

Fire, precautions against in early days, 
121. 

Fire, Great, ravages the city, 94; ori¬ 
gin and progress of, 122; described 
by Evelyn, 126. 

Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, execu¬ 
tion of, 218. 

Fitzstephen, his account of Tower of 
London, 16. 




4 88 


Index. 


Fitzwarren, probably true character in 
Whittington story, 272. 

Flags, Battle, kept at Chelsea Hos¬ 
pital, 208. 

Forest, Epping, perpetual gift to the 
people, 465. 

Gardens, Kew, botanic, great popular 
resort, 199, 212; Kensington, loca¬ 
tion and nature of, 457; Zoological, 
in Regent’s Park, 465. 

Garrick, David, recites before Cave, the 
printer, 366. 

Garth, Dr., witty remark on his pa¬ 
tients, 132. 

Gas first proposed for street lighting, 
166. 

Gate, Traitor’s, prisoners landed at, 
226. 

George III. determines to suppress 
the Gordon riots, 153. 

George IV., ridiculous dandyism of, 

448. 

Gog and Magog, wooden images in 
Guildhall, 259. 

Goldsmith, Oliver, residence of, at the 
Temple, 372. 

Gordon, Lord George, his turbulent 
measures, 142 ; marshals his men to 
attack the Parliament, 145 ; further 
inflames rioters, 146; petition of, 
rejected by the Commons, 147; ar¬ 
rested and imprisoned, then ac¬ 
quitted, 157 ; imprisoned for life for 
libel, 158. 

Grasshopper used as a crest by the 
Greshams, 351. 

Gresham. Sir Richard, his noble friend¬ 
ship for Wo'sey, 261. 

Gresham, Sir Thomas, builds first Ex¬ 
change, 342; personal notes of his 
character, 345 ; becomes financier for 
the Tudors, 347 ; does much to im¬ 
prove English credit, 348; tradition 
of his infancy, 351 ; charities and 
sudden death of, 352. 

Gresham, Michael, name given found¬ 
ling boy, 353. 

Gretna Green, lay marriages performed 
at, 334 - 

Grey, Lady Jane, sad story of, 221 ; 
execution of, for treason, 222. 

Grocers, history of the Company of, 
303 - 

Guildhall not destroyed by Great Fire, 
259 - 

Guilds, first formed, 35 ; keep saints’ 


days with festivity, 37 ; in danger of 
losing ancient powers, 280; nobles 
enrolled as members of, 315. 

Gundulf, monk, builds Tower of Lon¬ 
don, 16. 

Gunpowder proves useful in arresting 
the progress of the Great Fire, 126. 

Gunpowder Plot, some notice of, 82. 

Halicarnassus, Mausoleum of, in 
British Museum, 473. 

Hall, Westminster, built by William 
Rufus, 19; Goldsmiths’, description 
of, 294; Fishmongers’, described, 
295; Mercers’, notice of, 297 ; Mer¬ 
chant Taylors’, splendid festival at, 
298 ; Drapers’, location and mention 
of, 302 ; Skinners’, location and de¬ 
scription of, 303; Vintners’, fine tap¬ 
estry and paintings at, 304; Sta¬ 
tioners’, obscure location of, 305; 
Fellowship Porters’, annual sermon 
at, 312; Inner and Middle, at the 
Temple, 371 ; Westminster, forms 
part of the Palace, 429. 

Halls, splendid, occupied by the guilds, 
290. 

Hamilton, Duke of, his duel with Lord 
Mohun, 451. 

Hampstead Heath, 465. 

Hampton Court, 215. 

Hastings, Warren, great trial of, at 
Westminster Hall, 430. 

Hawkwood, John, history of, 301. 

Heming, Edward, first undertakes to 
light London, 98 ; his plan for main¬ 
taining street lights, 166. 

Henry 1 . grants fresh charter to Lon¬ 
don, 19. 

Henry II., proves a deliverer of the 
people, 20 ; partisans of, murder 
Thomas a Becket, 21 ; humbled at 
Becket’s shrine, 22. 

Henry III., London makes war with, 25. 

Henry VII., beautiful chapel of, in 
Westminster Abbey, 416. 

Henry VIII. takes Hyde Park for royal 
preserve, 444. 

Herbert, Colonel, overawes Lord 
George Gordon, 148. 

Hewet, Sir William, story of his 
daughter, 197. 

Hoare, Bank of, old, and still in opera¬ 
tion, 330. 

Holbein, his picture of Henry VIII. 
giving a charter to the Barber-Sur¬ 
geons’ Company, 305. 



Index. 


489 


Holland House, residence of many no¬ 
table people, 458. 

Horse-chestnuts, tine grove of, at 
Bushey Park, 215. 

Hospital, Chelsea, for disabled sea¬ 
men, 207. 

Hunter, Dr. John, anatomical museum 
of, 380. 

Hyde, Justice, tries to disperse mob, 
'148. 

Hyde Park, first made public by 
Charles 1 ., 445 ; becomes occupied 
by fashionables and dandies, 446; 
celebrated people to be seen in, 450 ; 
used for military reviews, 453; its 
great usefulness to common people, 
457 - 

Inn, Lincoln’s, location of, 376. 

Irving, Washington, reflections on 
Westminster Abbey, 404. 


James I. and the Lord Mayor, story 
of, 94; promotes the construction of 
the New River, 165 ; coaches first 
common in time of, 170: well an¬ 
swered by Bishop of Winchester, 
289; becomes a Clothworker, 314; 
as a huntsman, 444. 

Jersey, Earl of, proprietor of Childs’ 
Bank, 335. 

Jewels, crown, description of, 236; 
Blood’s attempt to steal, 229. 

Jews and Lombards only bankers in 
Middle Ages, 326. 

Johnson, Dr., predicts use of gas, 
166; his curious meditations at 
Temple Bar, 360 ; writes for Cave, 
the printer, 366; has rooms in Inner 
Temple, 375 ; personal appearance 
of, described, 385. 

Jonson, Ben, contrasted with Shak- 
speare, 58 ; further notice of, 61 ; 
story of his early studies, 379. 

Juxon, William, Bishop of London, 
his education, 288. 

Kensington Gardens, 457. 

Kew Gardens, favorite point for ex¬ 
cursions, 199. 

Kings of England obliged to ask en¬ 
trance at Temple Bar, 355. 

Lambeth Palace, 204. 

Lane, Petticoat, 186. 


Langdale distillery destroyed by the 
Gordon rioters, 153. 

Laurie, Sir Peter, his clumsy style of 
boasting, 262. 

Leman, John, grand inauguration of, 
. 2 49 -. ‘ 

Librarians in British Museum, singu¬ 
lar aptness of, 475. 

Libraries given by sovereigns to Brit¬ 
ish Museum, 470. 

Library, Royal, deposited in British 
Museum, 479. 

Lincoln, Earl of, gives name to Lin¬ 
coln’s Inn, 379. 

Liverymen, position of as members of 
guilds, 283. 

London, divine origin of, claimed by 
Romans, 11 ; primitive people of, 
sketched, 14; vigilant early police 
of, 25; early manners and customs 
in, 26; Chaucer’s description of the 
people of, 29; appearance of, at end of 
fourteenth century, 33; first helped 
and encouraged by Edward III., 35 ; 
Archbishop of Canterbury, killed by 
Tyler’s mob in, 43 ; early notice of 
fogs in, 57; street scenes in, depict¬ 
ed, 66 ; reflections after walk in, 70 ; 
vast influence of, under Charles I., 
86 ; influence of, over royal fortunes, 
93 ; streets first lighted in, 98 ; citi¬ 
zens of, contrasted with countrymen, 
102 ; distressed by Great Plague, 
109 ; new plans for, after Great Fire, 
127; bad character of street life in, 
135 ; benefited by new police, 161 ; 
statement as to population or, 186; 
citizens of, early favored by kings, 
243 ; rapacity of some kings exercised 
upon, 244 ; great foppery in, during 
time of Shakspeare, 341. 

Lord Mayor, title conferred by Ed¬ 
ward III., 247. 

Lords, House of, 436, 439. 

Lords and Commons, legislation shared 
between, 441. 

Lovat, Lord, last person beheaded in 
England, 226. 

Lovelace, poet, dies of starvation, 386. 

Lyceum Theatre first lighted with 
gas, 166. 

Macaroni, new dish introduced by 
fops, 448. 

Magazine, Gentleman’s, first printed 
at St. John’s Gate, 366. 

Magna Charta, granted by King John, 







490 


Index . 


22; the original document in Brit¬ 
ish Museum, 479. 

Magnaville, Geoffrey de, story of death 
of, 369. 

Malefactors confess crimes from mere 
terror, 114. 

Manners during time of Elizabeth, 
sketch of, 65. 

Mansfield, Lord, the Gordon rioters at¬ 
tack house of, 150 ; magnanimity of, 
toward Lord George Gordon, 157. 

Manuscripts, curious original, in Brit¬ 
ish Museum, 480. 

Marbles, Elgin, brought from Athens 
to British Museum, 473. 

Mary, Oueen, her persecutions of Prot¬ 
estants, 52. 

Masts and funnels lowered when steam¬ 
ers pass under bridges, 203. 

Mayor of London, office of, established 
by King John, 247. 

Mayor, Lord, costliness of his office, 
253; manner of election of, 254; 
numerous and curious duties of, 255; 
peculiar and remarkable rights of, 
256. 

McGragh, his singular duel with four 
adversaries, 452. 

Mellitus, first bishop to preach at St. 
Paul’s, 391. 

Merchants, English, witty description 

of, 35 2 * 

Middleton, Hugh, brings new water- 
supply to London, 165. 

Milton, John, his lodgings, 389. 

“ Mohocks,” rowdy ruffians so called, 


135 - 

Monmouth, Geoffrey of, his story of 
London, 11. 

Montague House, first location of Brit¬ 
ish Museum, 470. 

Montagu, Lady Mary Wortley, made 
queen of the Kit-Cat Club, 132. 

Monteagle, Lord, warned of Gun¬ 
powder Plot, 85. 

Montfort, Earl of Leicester, 25. 

Monument erected where Great Fire 
began, 128. 

Monuments, of various worthies at St. 
Paul’s Cathedral, 400; great number 
of at Westminster Abbey, 413. 

Morass, London really built upon a, 12. 

Morris, Peter, contrives water-supply 
for houses, 162. 

Mulcaster, Richard, schoolmaster, se¬ 
verity of, 288. 

Museum, British, building of described, 
467 ; founded by Sir Hans Sloane, 


468; ridiculed by wits and wags, 
469 ; first set up in Montague House, 
470; prodigious collection seen in, 
473 5 great reading-room at, 474; 
conditions for reading at, 475 ; won¬ 
derful comprehensiveness of, 476; 
very rare manuscripts in, 479 ; great 
diversity of readers in, 483. 

Museum, South Kensington, notice of, 
185. 

Navy, Royal, watermen enrolled in, 
3"* 

Needswell, flogged, at Drapers’ Hall, 

* 3 j 3- 

Newgate, prison, sacked and burned by 
the Gordon rioters, 149. 

Nobles, many belong to guilds, 315 ; 
titles of, explained, 439; great num¬ 
ber of, seen in Rotten Row, 454. 

Nonsuch House, building on Old Lon¬ 
don Bridge, 193. 

“ No Popery,” riots, referred to, 139 ; 
party cry of the rioters, 145. 

Norsemen break down Old London 
Bridge, 190. 

Olave, King, destroys London Bridge, 
190. 

“ Old Lady of Threadneedle Street,” 
name for Bank of England, 318. 

Omnibuses, immense gathering of, 
about the Mansion House, 337. 

Oranges, early introduction of, into 
England, 346. 

Osborne, famous leap of, from Lon¬ 
don Bridge, 187. 

Ovenston, maker of curious chair, 296. 

Overy St. Mary, story of, 189. 

Owen, Nicholas, commits suicide in 
the Tower, 232. 


Pageantry, remarkable, at Leman’s 
inauguration, 250. 

Palace, Westminster, its many his¬ 
toric changes, 426 ; Kensington, 
historical notes of, 458 ; St. James’s, 
built, or repaired, by Henry VIII., 
462 ; Buckingham, special residence 
of Queen Victoria, 465. 

Park, Hyde, early condition and habi¬ 
tants of, 444; Green, located near 
Hyde, 461; St. James’s, 461; Re¬ 
gent’s, great size of, 465. 

Parks, in London, early character of, 

443- 

Parliament, Houses of, described, 425. 




Index. 


491 


Paterson, William, designs first Bank 
of England, 327 ; later operations 
and death of, 329. 

Payne, Will, story of his obstinacy, 36. 

Peel, Sir Robert, establishes new po¬ 
lice, 162. 

Pepys, Samuel, his stories of Great 
Fire, 122; criticises the Merchant 
Taylors, 301. 

Perceval, Spencer, assassination of, 

383- 

Philpot, John, Lord Mayor, destroys 
pirates, 260. 

“ Pix, Trial of the,” performed by the 
Goldsmiths’ Company, 295. 

Plague, Great, in London, 94; distress 
during, 109 ; finally disappears in the 
colder weather, 119. 

Plate, splendid, in possession of the 
guilds, 294. 

Poet’s Corner, in Westminster Abbey, 
421. 

Police, new, 161. 

Pomander, curious preparation of or¬ 

anges, 34 6 - 

’Prentice boys begin to be prominent, 

73 - 

Press, printing, first brought to Eng¬ 
land, 48. 

Procession, Lord Mayor’s, magnifi¬ 
cence of, 248 ; partly formed by trade 
companies, 278. 

Prophets and fanatics swarm through 
London during the Great Plague, 

no. 

Pudding Lane, Great Fire begins in, 
122. 

Puritans stop repairs on St. Paul’s, 

397 - 

Quacks and pretenders in London 
during plague, 113. 

Rack, engine of torture used in the 
Tower, 230. 

Railway, Underground, 171, 176. 

Raleigh, Sir Walter, long imprisonment 

of, 222 ; later exploits and execution 
of, 225. 

Readers, remarkable facilities for, at 
British Museum, 475 ; distinguished 
character of some of the, in same, 
48!. 

Reading-room, immense, in British 
Museum, 474. 

Records, destroyed by Wat Tyler’s 
mob, 40. 


Relics, ridiculous collection of, in Old 
St. Paul’s, 395. 

Rennie, John, builds New London 
Bridge, 197. 

Richard II., his presence of mind be¬ 
fore rioters, 43. 

Rioters, the Gordon, terrible fury and 
destructiveness of, 152; suppressed 
by soldiery, 154. 

Riots often caused by the ’prentices, 

73 - 

River, New, great work of Middleton, 
165. 

Rochester, Gundulf made Bishop of, 
16; Bishop Flambard of, curious 
escape from prison, 19. 

Romans, antiquities of, still in London, 

J 3- 

Rotten Row, great avenue of nobility 
and fashion, 453 ; probable deriva¬ 
tion of name of, 454. 

u Rump,” history of the, 107. 

Ryswick, Peace of, celebrated by first 
service at St. Paul’s, 398. 


Saints, patron, always adopted by 
trade-guilds, 278. 

Sanctuary, right of, long claimed by 
Whitefriars, 376. 

Saville, Sir George, tolerant spirit of, 
141 ; house of, stripped and burned, 
148. 

Savoir-vivre, club formed by dandies, 
448. 

School, Merchant Taylors’, notice of, 
287. 

Scone, Stone of, placed under Corona¬ 
tion Chair, 420. 

Seamen, disabled, at Chelsea, 207. 
Sebert, King, builds the first abbey at 
Westminster, 409. 

Sentries, gloomy duties of, about the 
Tower, 227. 

Servants of Lord Mayor, amusing 
titles of, 256. 

Shakspeare, his “Twelfth Night” 
performed at the Temple, 371. 
Sloane, Sir Hans, sells collections to 
form a national museum, 468. 
Smithfield, martyrdoms inflicted at, 

55 - 

Soane, Sir John, founds art museum, 

3 8 °- 

Society, literary, in time of Elizabeth, 
69. 

Society, Royal, founded by Charles II., 
105. 







492 


Index. 


Soldiers, valuable, furnished by Lon¬ 
don, 89; succeed in checking riot¬ 
ers, 154. 

Southwark, early play-house in, 65. 

Staines, Sir William, history of, 263. 

Stationers’ Company, the, and the 
Archbishop of Canterbury, 307. 

Steamboats on Thames described, 199. 

Stephen made king by influence of 
London, 19. 

Stone, of Scone, placed under Corona¬ 
tion Chair, 420. 

Stones, building, of immense size in 
British Museum, 467. 

St. John, Order of, property of Tem¬ 
plars given to, 366. 

St. Paul’s, early building of, 34 ; con¬ 
sumed by Great Fire, 125 ; rebuilt 
under direction of Wren, 128; ori¬ 
gin and early history of, 391 ; de¬ 
voted to business and full of idlers, 
396; ineffectual effort to restore, 

397 ; wholly burned in Great Fire, 

398 ; effect of its style, 399 ; monu¬ 
ments and statues in, 400; dimen¬ 
sions of, stated, 403. 

Strand, the, begins to assume settled 
style, 81 ; as a great thoroughfare, 
described, 383. 

Streets, dirty, formerly universal in 
London, 97 ; dangerous at night, 98 ; 
former bad management of, 136. 

Suburbs, London rapidly overrunning 
its, 185. 

Swift, Dean, satirizes men of science, 
106. 

Swift, Edward, sees apparition at the 
Tower, 229. 


Taverns, celebrated, in and about 
Temple Bar, 384. 

Taxes, oppressive, levied by early 
kings, 26. 

Taylor, John, the “Water-Poet,” his 
tirade against coaches, 308. 

Taylor, Jeremy, reflections on West¬ 
minster Abbey, 408. 

Templars, origin and character of, 362. 

Templars, Knights, severe punish¬ 
ments used by, 365; persecuted, 
366 ; finally break up Right of Sanc¬ 
tuary, 376. 

Temple, grounds of, described, 361 ; 
Church of, antiquity and beauty of, 
369; Inner and Middle, devoted to 
law, 370; Halls of, beauty and celeb¬ 
rity of, 71; Inner, Hall of, surround¬ 


ings of, 372; Dr. Johnson tenant 

of, 375- 

Temple Bar, removal of, 173, 355 ; 
passage through, by various sove¬ 
reigns, 356 ; notable events happen¬ 
ing at, 359; first building of, erected 
by Wren, 360. 

Thames, water of, supplied to city by 
Morris, 165 ; bridge early built over, 
189 ; view of important features 
from, 204 ; scenes along the upper 
part of, 211; Lord Mayors’ shows 
upon, 249 ; former great usefulness 
of, for travel, 309; scenery of, 310. 

Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury, 
upholds Henry II., 20. 

Thurloe, John, secretary to Cromwell, 

379- 

Tombs, great number of, at West¬ 
minster Abbey, 418. 

Torture, abominable means of, used at 
the Tower, 232; finally abandoned 
in 1640, 235. 

Tower of London, begun by William 
I., 15 ; addition by Henry III., and 
story thereon, 34 ; general descrip¬ 
tion of, 217; curious ceremony of 
locking up, 227. 

Trade-guilds, early character and pur¬ 
pose of, 277. 

Treason, heads of those executed for, 
set on London Bridge, 193. 

Tyburn, place of common execution, 
5 1 - 

Tyburnia, elegant modern suburb, 457. 

Tyler, Wat, account of his revolt, 39. 

Vase, Portland, or Barberini, in Brit¬ 
ish Museum, 474. 

Veto, power of, enjoyed by Lord 
Mayor, 256. 

Viaduct, Holborn, description of, 184. 

Victoria, Queen, opens present Royal 
Exchange, 353; notified, at Ken¬ 
sington, of her accession, 458. 

Vincent, Jenkin, character of a ’pren¬ 
tice boy, 77. 

Walworth, Sir William, strikes 
down Wat Tyler, 43. 

Wardens of the guilds, powers and 
duties of, 36. 

Watermen, great number of, formerly 
on Thames, 308; bad manners of, 
3 11 - 

Watermen’s Company, hall of, 306; 
privileges of, 306. 






Index . 


493 


Water-supply, gradual improvement 
in regard to, 162. 

Watt, James, ridicules gas-lighting, 
166. 

Westminster Abbey, historic interest of, 
404 ; quotations on, 407 ; story of its 
first consecration, 409; coronation 
always held at, 410. 

Westminster Hall, coronation ban¬ 
quets at, 431. 

Westmoreland, Earl of, his trick for a 
wife, 333. 

Whitefriars, or Alsatia, bad character 
of, 101 ; unpleasantness of the dis¬ 
trict, 376. 

Whitehall, improvements made in, 82 ; 
great changes produced at, 182. 

Whittington, Richard, most famous 
Lord Mayor, 259; story of his 
youth, 26^ ; modern biography of, 
269; history of his family, 271 ; his 
costly entertainment of Henry V., 
274 ; death and excellent record of, 
275. 

Wilkes, John, fights duel with Martin, 
452. 


William I. favorable to St. Paul’s, 
392 - 

William Rufus strengthens Tower of 
London, 16. 

Windsor first uses gas, 166. 

Wolsey, Cardinal, long resident at 
Whitehall, 182 ; and others, dwell¬ 
ers at Hampton Court, 215 ; re¬ 
ceives great kindness from Gresham, 
261. 

Wool, tax laid upon to build Old Lon¬ 
don Bridge, 190. 

Woolsack, 440. 

WTen, Sir Christopher, his new plans 
for London, 127 ; plans of, for Lon¬ 
don finally rejected, 128 ; builds new 
St. Paul’s, 398; ungracious treat¬ 
ment of, 399. 

Wyatt, Sir Henry, his painful im¬ 
prisonment, 217 ; relieved from 
hunger by a cat, 218. 

York, first official capital of England, 
12. 

York, Princes of the house of, mur¬ 
dered in the Tower, 218. 


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